Jurassic Park OnePointFive
by pmaniac
Summary: In which, two years having passed since the first expedition, Grant and Ian both manage to wind up back at Nublar. At the same time. Hard luck, boys.
1. Happy Holidays

Ian Malcolm yawned and leaned back against his chair with a languorous stretch of tensed limbs, hearing the sound of his jacket squeaking against the chair, leather on leather. He stretched his arms up behind his head, flexed his fingers, and glanced at the laptop in front of him, re-reading the last few sentences that he had written.

It didn't even make sense. It was just a bunch of random words. God, he was tired.

He had spent all day at the computer and was starting to get fairly drowsy. He hadn't taken a break in over 6 hours, not even for food.

Absently rubbing his eyes with the back of his hand, Ian contemplated the bright side of all his hard work. It took his mind off things; he was making distinct headway with his lecture notes; and, had he been on a diet, he would have been doing _really well_. He chuckled to himself. Oh yeah, that was Ian through and through, always looking for the positive. The glass is half full and all that.

He shut down the system in front of him and brought down the screen of the laptop until he heard the closing click. He was quite surprised he had got it first time; he usually had trouble with it. And it wasn't that he was so out of touch with the modern world that he couldn't handle these new-fangled devices, oh no Ian was a modern thinker for sure. It just seemed that his laptop had decided to hate him is all.

And who could blame it? Like Ian, it had been working long solid hours for weeks. It deserved a break as much as he did - maybe a nice long holiday on a deserted beach. Little islands could be thoroughly enjoyable, so he had been told, although he suspected that most people hadn't experienced the long-time extinct creatures he had in their summer vacations.

He sighed. It wasn't even like Ian was a fan of beach holidays. Just the sand, the sun, the ocean – with his penchant for heavy, black clothing and his cripplingly short attention span it wouldn't be too long before he got so bored he would have to pull out his laptop and start working again.

An adventure holiday, then? Yeah, something to get the adrenaline pumping. Been there, done that and had been mildly surprised that the T-shirts weren't actually on sale. He laughed at the mental image of himself walking around in an 'I survived Jurassic Park' shirt.

Okay, so no... but maybe a nice trip abroad to a city or something? Visit galleries, go sightseeing, take in different cultures. He shook his head. He would never make a good tourist.

Fine then, a cruise? No, he didn't like travelling on sea.

"God," he muttered. "I'm such a miserable git,"

Ian shrugged it off. It wasn't like he even wanted to go anywhere just yet. He liked it where he was, and saw no reason to leave. He liked the element of travel in his field, delivering lectures, research leave, flying out to meetings, and generally going where his work was leading - it was a nice break. But he felt more at home San Diego. Besides at least he knew he was safe in the city from a rampant attack of genetically altered prehistoric creatures.

He acknowledged, ruefully, that if there was anybody who'd believe that last statement to be totally untrue, it would be him. After all he was the one who kept ranting on about Chaos Theory and if it meant anything at all (which it did, despite what numerous people had counter-argued) it was that nothing is predictable. Of course he - and most likely the rest of the city - would not expect to wake up the next morning to find the place overrun by raging dinosaurs, but then, he had never expected to find himself on an island full of them, either, but it had happened. A city attack, well, hey, it was _possible_.

A nagging voice hastened to remind him of the reasonably big difference between possible and probable. That would be the more logical side of his brain. The one that ruins all the fun.

Ian was snapped out of his musings when he heard the strident ringing of an alarm clock. He ran his right hand through his short, black hair in a frustrated manner. It was time to get up already.

He hadn't even managed to go to sleep.

* * *

It was hot.

I was really, really, unbelievably hot. Stiflingly so. On the horizon, the rippled image of an orange sun setting across a sandy desert plain was all that could be seen.

Dressed in a white shirt, manila jacket and beige shorts, Grant still found it unbearably hot. And he was used to hot. He spent a lot of time around hot places, and around desert areas. But still...

It was hot.

He was so dehydrated, too. When was the last time he had had something to drink? It wasn't that long ago, it couldn't be. Oh man, he couldn't even think straight. His mind was sort of ... distant and disorientated. He wasn't sure of a lot of things that he was sure he should be sure of. And he wasn't even sure about that. What he did know was that he had to find shade, in case he was suffering from mild sunstroke or something of the sort. Being out in weather like this was risking sunstroke, skin cancer and countless other things that Grant wasn't definite about. Oh yeah, he was living life on the edge.

He smiled as he saw a small makeshift camp area in the distance. Under the improvised cloth roof, was a set up of two circular, plastic tables with three white chairs either side. They looked like garden chairs he'd seen once at Ikea, and the thought of such a marker of Western consumerism out in the vast plains of the Gobi Desert made him grin.

As he approached the camp, Alan nodded a greeting at Ellie, who sat at one of the tables. Her blonde hair that was tied back from her face, and she was wearing a white T-shirt and camel coloured shorts. She was covered in golden-brown sand but didn't seem to notice or care. Grant smiled as she waved back and he withdrew a seat opposite her.

He slumped down on it with an exhausted sigh, creating a diminutive breeze that unfortunately only lasted a fraction of a second.

"It's hot," he stated. It was probably one of the only things that was on his mind at that particular moment.

"Yes." Ellie agreed.

There was a long silence as the two mulled over their separate thoughts. It wasn't an awkward silence, which was what Grant liked about being with Ellie. They never had awkward silences; their silences were more thoughtful, comfortable.

Grant slumped forward in his chair. The heat had absorbed all his energy and he felt like he could do nothing constructive anymore. He could barely think straight – he just wanted the night to come and bring in the cool. Unfortunately that wasn't what he was getting paid to do.

Not that Grant was in it for the money. In fact, the thought of making much money in the field of paleontology was somewhat laughable. You didn't don a trowel to pay off your mortgage – passion and enthusiasm was an absolute must. It had crossed Grant's mind to distance himself from digging up dinosaurs after his indisputably bad experience with the real things, but that didn't last long. He had to face it, dinosaurs were his life.

He ran that last sentence through his head again and frowned. He really was - as Ellie was want to tease him - such a loser.

"Are you glad to be taking a break?" Ellie said finally, breaking the silence.

"I don't know." He admitted. Though he had just been lamenting his predicament, he still did not want to leave. "There's so much I still have to do. Maybe I should just stay..."

Ellie fixed him a stern glare. "Now, come on, Alan. You should go, you deserve a rest."

"Well...it is pretty hot."

She smiled warmly. "Yes, it is."

"So you don't mind sticking around and sorting stuff out whilst I'm living it up in Costa Rica?" He asked sceptically. In his current state, he would have preferred a trip somewhere perhaps a little cooler. Like the Northern Territories.

"Trust me Alan, that's one of the last places I'd like to go." She answered earnestly.

"Yeah," he spoke quietly. "I suppose so."


	2. Peanuts

Although Grant, Ian and everything else to do with Jurassic Park mentioned in this chapter are not mine, I still have Ian's nuts! (Hold the innuendo's, please)

* * *

Ian sat forwards in his semi-reclining chair, fighting with his packet of peanuts. It was so damn small, how was he supposed to open them? He had been working at them for the past few minutes, and now they had his undivided attention. It wasn't like he was hungry - he didn't actually feel like eating... but he was losing to a bag of salted snacks! Ian Malcolm was not about to be defeated by savoury refreshments!

It took all the strength he had in his thumbs, but he finally managed to tear through the pack - with such force, that the bag ripped all the way down and the snacks fell everywhere, each one making a small ping as it landed from it's descent.

This caused a few heads to turn in his direction to which Ian smiled sheepishly at as he pushed the packet away from him.

He now tilted back on the chair, with nothing to occupy his wandering attention. From the corner of his eye, he saw that there were numerous buttons above his chair, but at the last second, he retracted his hovering hand, deciding that it would probably be wise if he didn't mess around with the controls.

His neighbour, noting his display of endless fidgeting, smiled and asked, "you nervous?"

No. He wasn't nervous. He'd flown many times, it didn't bother him. But for some reason... he was... anxious. And he had a suspicion that it was something to do with the fact that he was flying to Costa Rica. Call it gut instinct, but Ian had a feeling that something was going to go wrong. "Um, no, not exactly." He tried to think of a way he could explain how he felt to the older woman. "Have you, er, ever heard of The Malcolm Effect?"

* * *

Grant sat patiently in his chair, strumming his fingers on the armrest. He liked long journeys, they were a good chance for him to relax, and just sit back. And he didn't get much time to do that usually. Leaning back comfortably in his chair, he pulled his beige hat down over his eyes and tried to get to sleep.

* * *

After successfully boring the old woman next to him to sleep with his ceaseless cynical babble, Ian had gotten up from his seat to find some more peanuts.

"Please, sir, if you would just go back to your seat..."

"Yeah, okay, I will, I just, uh, wanted some peanuts."

The airhostess smiled politely, but was clearly a little uneasy. "If you would please take your seat, a hostess should be around with a tray -"

Malcolm sighed. He obviously wasn't getting through to her. "Fine, okay, I'll sit." _But I want those damn peanuts._

He headed back to his seat reluctantly. However, he was stopped before he got there. The man was tallish, quite skinny, but by no means puny or weak-looking; his black hair was a fair contrast against his pale complexion. His voice was surprisingly rough, when he spoke.

"Hey! I know you. You're Malcolm, right? The Chaos Guy!"

Ian smiled patronisingly, and nodded slowly. "Yeah, that's me... The 'Chaos Guy'..."

"Wow, I'm a big fan! What'll you be doing in Costa Rica?"

"Actually, I'm --"

The man hit his head with his palm, as if he just remembered something stupidly obvious. "Of course, don't tell me. You're gonna deliver a lecture there, right?"

"Yes, that's-"

"-you know I went to one of your lectures, a few years ago. You know, before your injury. How'd that happen, by the way?"

"Well, I-"

"It's great that I can finally get to meet you. I tried to, y'know, at your lecture, but you didn't stay back very long. I've been wanting to show you something,"

The man produced something from his jacket pocket and held it up for Ian to see, but at an angle, so that it was well concealed from any of the other passengers. Ian stared, but it took a few moments before the object actually processed in his mind, and when it did, he almost doubled back in alarm. He lifted his head up and shot a questioning, slightly hysteric look at the man, who was now grinning crazily at Ian. The next thing he knew, he was being held with one hand on the top of his forehead so that it was leaning slightly backwards, and the man's other hand was tightly grasping the knife, holding it close to Ian's throat.

He inhaled deeply and gulped.

He _knew_ something bad was going to happen.


	3. Land This Plane

Grant was just drifting off when a sudden jerky movement woke him. Still slightly sleep-dazed, he tried to concentrate. There were two men, stood up in the passageway of the plane.

After that, it didn't take long for him to focus.

The slightly smaller man, he didn't know, but...

That was Ian Malcolm...

...and that threateningly sharp object was a knife!

Grant had to fight the impulsive urge to get up and help him. Around the two men, there was a gang of about five or six more men that had formed, armed and keeping people under control. Funnily enough, they were all dressed in black. As a minor side note, it looked as if Ian belonged. Grant shook his head, that wasn't exactly important at a time like this.

But, then...what was important? What should he do?

Grant had no idea; he had never exactly been in that kind of situation before. He decided he would stay put in his chair, try to merge with the other passengers. It was extremely unlikely that he would be recognised, but he didn't know who the people with Malcolm were, and if they knew him, maybe they also knew Grant?

But then, _did_ they know him? Were they just threatening Ian because he happened to be in the wrong place at the wrong time? Maybe he had annoyed or offended them somehow. Strangely enough, he didn't find that at all hard to believe.

"Land this plane," the taller man commanded to an unfortunate airhostess. "At Island Nublar." She retreated hurriedly to the cockpit, most likely passing the demand on to the pilot.

Grant couldn't help it. He shuddered.

"That is strictly a no-fly zone!" The co-pilot protested. "We couldn't possibly..." he trailed off - rather wisely, so Grant thought - when the man jabbed the knife in his direction. The co-pilot seemed quite young, and possibly naive, but he got the message and kept his mouth shut.

The plane was strangely quiet. Eerily so, actually. Grant had just always assumed in a hijack that there would be screams and lots of running about and panic, yet it seemed everybody was cooperating with the armed men's requests. A little boy who had been crying seconds earlier was now just snivelling every so often, but other then that the plane was silent.

"Oh, and don't worry about the radio..." The man shouted, presumably to the pilot. "I... took care of it for you," He turned, taking Malcolm with him, to the passengers. "That goes for you too," he said, tightening his grip on the knife. "If anybody so much as _thinks_ about contacting anyone, with cell phones, or pagers, or whatever, well," he extended the weapon out behind him, using it for a pointer and gesturing at the black clad men, "they will get very angry, and _he_," he continued, now pulling back Ian's head more, "well, let's just say he's in a very bad position at the minute..."

* * *

Considering the situation he was in, Ian thought he was doing quite well. He wasn't even as scared as one would think they would be, under the given circumstances. In fact, he wasn't exactly frightened at all. Although his heart rate _was_ practically beating at quadruple the normal amount. But that was just the adrenaline.

No, no... he was okay. The hijack didn't bother him, neither did the virtual death-grip hold, and neither, surprisingly, did the weapons – in particular the one pointed at him. It was the mention of the desired destination that _really_ made his stomach do summersaults. It was the knowledge that he was going back... going _back_ when he swore to himself it would never happen. The fact that there was little he could do in his precise state of affairs didn't seem to reduce this fear any.

He was really...

Going.

Back.

There.

Naturally, after the island was mentioned, the rest was pretty much a blur.

He hated when he saw on films and read in stories that the rest of situations like that were a blur. He'd have expected that if you were being threatened with a sharp object of some kind, you'd really be doing your best to pay attention. Hell, he'd paid very close attention to being almost ripped up by a Dinosaur. _Very_ close. But no, there wasn't much that physically processed in his brain after that. It was sort of...surreal. Almost as if it wasn't actually happening. Or it wasn't actually happening to _him_. He felt his head being craned back, the stiff yank on his short hair that pulled his head back to expose more neck for the knife to cut. It hurt, sure, but he hardly noticed. He just stared straight at the lights on the ceiling of the plane. Even as he felt the knife pressed steadily against his flesh, it was as if it were of no relevance to him whatsoever. Besides, he had learned to trust his gut feeling, and his feeling was that he wasn't actually going to be harmed. Well, not yet, anyway.

* * *

Grant stared out the window, trying desperately to comprehend the fact that he was back. He was on the Island again, and yet he didn't feel so scared. He was actually quite curious; a small part of him wanted to see the dinosaurs again. This, however, was a very small, illogical part of him that often went ignored.

The plane had landed, and it had not been a very good landing at all. Considering the Island was to be a tourist attraction, there didn't actually seem to be much space for a public plane to land.

Although, he _had_ come in a helicopter, perhaps planes were not meant to land? Maybe it was designed that way to stop such disasters as what-would-be if the men got off the plane. But, (not exactly astonishingly), that's exactly what they did, and they dragged Ian with them.

Grant got a good glance at him. He seemed kinda... zoned out. Like he was there, but he wasn't exactly _there_.

And then Grant made one of the most spontaneous decisions of his life.

Slyly, he snuck off the plane.

It was a lot easier then one would have thought - the passengers didn't seem to even notice, or they didn't care; either way, it worked for Alan. He had waited until the men had all gotten off and had made their way slightly away from the plane. He hadn't, however, counted on the fact that the plane would take off again quite so suddenly. As it started up it made a loud _whirring_ noise, one that anyone on the island could have done without.

Shuffling forwards, ever so slightly, Grant realised that if he was going to jump, it was now or never.

It was now.

Grant leapt, feeling somewhat like a superhero or someone from a movie. It was quite exhilarating. His landing, however, was a good reminder that he shouldn't make a habit of jumping from moving vehicles. It was far from graceful. He fell into a crouched position on his hands and knees, rolled, and tried to get back onto his feet. He failed this, though, and toppled to one side. After steadying himself, he hopped up quickly, hoping nobody saw him, because he needed to keep a low cover, and because he had just made, simply put, a complete arse out of himself.

He dove for cover in the nearest overgrown shrub, his heart pounding almost as loud as the plane. He hated that everything was making so much noise, the last thing anyone wanted to happen was to attract attention.

He brushed himself off, and looked around, apprehensively. He was in a large field. A _really_ large field. There were bushes and trees dotted around the plain, but it looked like a vast open space, nonetheless. The plants were all wild and unkempt. At least they definitely appeared that way. Grant had never really been interested in plant life. That was more Ellie's field.

He drew in a deep breath when recognition hit him. This was where he had first seen the brachiosaurus herd! It had looked so different then, he thought sadly. It had been positively breathtaking, he was sure he had to pick himself up from the floor at first. And he had smiled widely, and giggled a little hysterically, and hugged Ellie tightly. He couldn't see how anything could go wrong.

How insanely mistaken he was.

The place looked different now, though. Sparse, desiccated... just different. Alan wasn't sure whether it really had changed, or whether he was simply reflecting his bad experiences there. One thing that took a while to click, but seemed idiotically obvious, was that other than the plants and other than the men, there was no sign of life. Basically, no dinosaurs.

In the back of his mind, Grant had a feeling this was a bad thing, but he couldn't have cared less at that particular moment in time. There was no immediate danger of being eaten so who was he to complain?


	4. Make Yourself Comfortable

Malcolm was finding it extremely difficult to walk forwards when he was being held back from behind and there was a sharp object placed portentously at his front. He was trying to move, but his steps turned into little foot shuffles every time he attempted to step forwards. It also didn't help that Ian was freakishly tall and so had to lean down slightly as he walked. His neck felt sore, his back ached, and he couldn't feel his feet, which he assumed must not be a good thing. He gave a frustrated sigh when he was pulled back again and kicked his right foot back into the man's shin.

"Could you, uh, I dunno... _not_ do that, perhaps?" He asked irritably.

The criminal's hand gripped tighter around the knife. It seemed he had a short temper.

Perfect.

"Well, sorry," Ian mumbled. "It's just, this is hardly practical. I mean, you could have thought this kidnapping out a little bit more carefully, really. I'm flattered that you considered _me_ to be your hostage and everything, but come on - I can hardly walk here. You could have brought handcuffs or rope or _something_. I really just don't thi-" He realised that he was receiving black stares from everyone. "Never mind."

They walked on again, in partial silence. Malcolm mumbled a few complaints under his breath, but apart from that, there was little sound amongst the men.

"This is a bad idea, you know."

The men ignored him.

"I'm serious, it's worrying." He continued. "Not worrying because I'm serious, but..." he trailed off when he felt the man's grasp on his shoulders tighten considerably.

"Listen," he stared ominously. Malcolm fell silent, as did the entire island by the sounds of it. "Shut up."

Ian was no fool, but he also didn't take orders from criminals. "Okay, look, I'm not sure _why_ you decided it was alright to just... just -- abduct me, and take me here on the godforsaken island, and really, I'm not questioning it, but --"

"SHUT UP!" He screamed, turning red in the face, and roughly moving the knife toward Ian's throat. "Or will I have to make you?"

"Come on, I'm a _mathematician, _I'm not stupid. You wouldn't go to all the trouble you have done to get me here if you can just dispose of me so quickly. You see --"

Malcolm felt something hard hit him sharply in the back of the head. It hurt. It really hurt. It hurt a lot, actually. He felt the searing pain run down the back of head and his eyes filled with...something. He wasn't sure if he had felt his knees buckle or not, and then there was only blackness.

* * *

Grant was entirely pleased with himself. He had successfully followed a team of rather threatening looking men through a wide jungle full of creatures he didn't even want to think about without being seen.

To be fair, they seemed distracted by their hostage.

Grant hadn't been close enough to hear what was going on, but he could tell that Malcolm was pissing them off. This was hardly surprising behaviour from the mathematician, he generally tended to give bad first impressions, but apparently he had just continued to talk endlessly. Even Grant had thought that he was smarter than that.

Although he knew they wouldn't actually do anything to him. He was pretty sure that they needed Malcolm alive. For what, he didn't even _want_ to know, but he had been particularly surprised when the next time he managed to catch sight of Ian, he was being half-dragged, half-carried the rest of the way to his destination.

Grant had to keep threading through the foliage, to avoid being spotted and so he missed a lot of what was happening. At one point, he had seen Ian rambling on about something which was making the man behind him increasingly livid, and a few minutes later, when he spotted the men again, he saw that the tallish man who had been holding the knife was walking backwards, carrying something. When he had managed to see a little clearer, Grant had noticed that he was actually dragging some_one_. Someone dressed in black. The man had Ian from under his arms and he was lugging the upper part of his body. His head was lulling lifelessly to the side, on his left shoulder, and his feet were dragging limply across the dry grass.

_Well, that's one way to shut him up..._

Grant followed the men for a little while longer. He coiled back into the shrubbery, and kept on running straight. He wasn't sure how long it had been since he had seen Ian and his captors but it felt to be about 15-20 minutes or so. And now he was afraid that he had lost them completely. A slight panic alarm started to wail inside his head, and he struggled to keep it quiet. So he was lost. But he had been lost on this island before, and it had all turned out okay then, didn't it? Right? He was sure that had Malcolm been there, he would be ranting about how it was mathematically impossible for the same situation to turn out all right a second time or something in the same pessimistic category, but the point was that he wasn't there. Which was bad. Very bad.

* * *

The world was spinning.

Why was the world spinning?

Well, of course the world _spins_, but why... why was the room spinning?

Malcolm groaned groggily. He lifted his head up, but when he opened his eyes, he had to shut them immediately. His vision was swimming violently, and it gave him an excruciating migraine. He just stayed put, laid where he was for a few minutes, breathing deeply. Even lifting his head ached.

"Oooh..." he moaned softly. The back of his head was immensely painful. He should try not to make a habit of being hit in head with blunt objects, because it really wasn't a very nice feeling at all.

Ian stared forward blankly. He appeared to be in a bedroom. In the room was a bedside table, a single bed, and a window. It looked a bit like a long-vacant hotel room. Actually, it looked a lot like a hotel room. Heck, odds were, that was exactly what it was.

Except for... was there a hotel on the island?

Ian didn't know. He had spent the night in the wet grass, groaning in pain, next to the Tyrannosaur paddock. But he figured there probably was somewhere intended for the tourists to stay; Hammond had, after all, planned to open the park publicly.

Ian shifted his position, grunting painfully, and managed to shuffle to an upright posture. Feeling his head spin, he leaned backward against the bed and stared out of the window, absently.

He could see branches of trees and other such foliage, and it appeared that he wasn't very high. He stood up and walked, somewhat unsteadily, to the window and stared out of it.

Yeah, he could definitely jump that.

But what would he do then? Wonder around in a jungle inhabited by prehistoric beasts, with no way of getting off and no means of communication with anyone outside of the island?

He shrugged. Why not?

Carefully, he wrapped his fingers around the bottom of the white window frame. He budged the window up, cringing when he heard to squeaky jerk it made. He stopped and looked around quickly, hoping nobody else heard the noise.

Was there anyone else? Maybe there were people outside his room...guarding it? He didn't actually know. Hell, perhaps they all went outside and got eaten.

Despite this, it wouldn't hurt to play it safe. He opened the window a slight bit more, and tested to see if he could fit through.

Apparently those days he had gone without eating hadn't helped.

He withdrew his body and once again started pushing on the window frame. It suddenly pushed effortlessly and quite unexpectedly, and it made a low-pitched groaning noise loud enough to attract attention at a Slipknot gig. Ian jumped back swiftly and spun to see the doorknob turning.

Before it was physically possible for him to do anything else, a big man entered the room with a curt look on his face.

"What's going on in here?" When he spoke, his voice was gruff.

"I was just, uh, y'know, letting a little sunshine in?" He answered, albeit lamely, making a gesture to the window.

The man raised a bushy eyebrow, crossed the room and shut the window with a resounding slam that made Ian flinch slightly.

"Okaaay," Ian murmured under his breath, "you could have just asked,"

The man shot him a death glare and Malcolm just sighed.

"You're a lot more trouble then you're worth." The man warned. "You'd be dead already if it were up to me."

"Well, uh. Thanks."

"Listen; I don't like you. This is hard enough as it is, so cut the sarcasm." He snapped. He then said, in a tone calmer though no less cold, "come on."

"Where are we going?" Ian questioned. The last thing he wanted to do was follow a potentially dangerous man who suffered violent mood swings into a jungle full of killer dinosaurs.

The man just grinned somewhat sadistically, and walked out the room. Ian followed hesitantly.


	5. When Dinosaurs Ruled The Earth

When Ian first entered the huge building he was sure it seemed familiar, yet it didn't look it. The hall was huge, and there was an equally impressive staircase that curled around the structure onto a higher level. There were grand designs carved into the stone and marble that decorated the ceiling and walls. Ian noted duly that some bits were chipped or cracked, maybe as a result of some form of action or a fight that had taken place there. As he was lead through to another room he suddenly got a sort of...flash image of a skeleton and a cloth banner, strung from the top of the stairs in the corner near the door. It was quick, but the image stuck and Ian instantly knew where he was.

He found himself unexpectedly surprised and a little overwhelmed. There had been a few small changes, but he definitely recognised the place. He remembered when he had been going up the stairs, that had been where Hammonds crazy grandkids and first run in. He remembered being led through to watch the stupid presentation that had been arranged. He remembered warning the stubborn engineers something about unpredictability and how life would find a way, and then he remembered, regretfully, being right.

His captors escorted him into a computer room. He recalled being slumped on a desk there, while panicked people tried to do...something...with the computers.

"We need the code to make the freezer room where the vials are kept accessible," a burly man explained. He was very big and very threatening-looking. Someone that struck you as a person who should by no means be messed with. He had no apparent distinguishing features except for a wonky nose. And the fact that he freakishly intimidating.

"Okay." Said Malcolm simply, making no attempt to move from his current position.

When the man continued to look expectantly at him, Ian added: "Good luck."

Wonky Nose sighed heavily and grabbed Ian's arm roughly. "We _need_ that dinosaur DNA."

He gasped, and tried to withdraw his arm, but the grip was extremely tight. "Well?" He reasoned, "What do you want me to do about that?"

"We want you," the man answered slowly, like he was talking to child, "to open it."

Ian thought about this for a second before bursting out with laughter, rather imprudently. However, it appeared nobody else had quite the same sense of humour. He stopped his short outburst when the important information actually dawned on him. "You're serious right? You really are serious. I can't believe it..." he glanced down at the floor, trying to gather his thoughts which were scattered all over the place. "There are so many reasons why this is such an insanely bad idea that it's about to loop back round and become a good one. For one thing: the freezer room? This place was totally deserted and pretty much destroyed. Good luck finding anything of use in there. Another: _why_ on earth do you want to make more dinosaurs?! Did you guys totally miss what happened last time?" No matter the situation, narrow-minded people never failed to piss him off. "And for the third thing - do I look like a computer geek to you? I have about as much clue how to get into that system as you do, and I'm assuming that's not much." Towards the end of his rant, Ian had started to merge his words together and talklikethis. He took a very deep breath.

"I didn't say we were going to use the vials, Dr. Malcolm." The man said with a deliberate slowness, "I just said we need the code."

"There is no force on this earth that would make me do that for you," he spat. He then started to pace, franticly, muttering things quietly to himself before looking back up at the man. "And I thought Hammond was crazy. Crazy and ambitious, and... naive. He didn't even look into what he was doing he just did it. He didn't think, he was thoughtless. He was thoughtless, he was careless and... and he was naive. But you people, you're just...just..." clenching his fists agitatedly he searched for an appropriate word. Nothing came to his head so he settled for, "idiots. And you're foolish! Can't anyone learn from past mistakes anymore? Could they ever? I don't know if you missed what happened last time, but _people died_! If you had just seen the screaming, and the running and the absolute undeniable _terror_ that those thoughtless engineers created then maybe you might have the slightest impression why this is probably one of the worst ideas that anyone could ever suggest. And what, do you want to continue with the park? You want to open it up, make money? _Sell bloody T-Shirts?_ This isn't even full dinosaur DNA - parts have been substituted. You can't know _what_ you'll create. You think you know what you're doing? I can't even begin to understand how your mind works. It's completely unpredictable. Absolutely anything can and most likely will happen. You're maniacs! This is just such a bad idea, am I the only that can see that this is such a bad idea? What exactly do you plan on doing anyway? Actually... who are you guys?"

The other men behind the mathematician were very secretly impressed by his skill to talk for so long without taking a breath.

"Dr. Malcolm, you are in no position to be asking so many questions."

"That right, huh?" Ian was breathing heavily now, trying to regain his breath. Otherwise, he would have probably bit back with something a lot worse for his own sake.

The man chuckled. Whenever most people think 'chuckled' they think of a jolly laugh, cheerfulness, joy. This was not one of those chuckles. This was a deeply haunting evil chuckle that led one to consider what they could possibly have done to be in the situation where someone was laughing so manically in that manner.

So Ian hardly had any control when he felt himself shudder. He was going to be the last person to admit that he was intimidated by the man stood in front of him, but to be painfully truthful, he was.

"This is not a request, it's an order."

His words shook Ian out his anxious stupor. He immediately shot back a retort that he would have been better off keeping to himself. "Even if I had lost my mind and turned into a real nutcase like yourself I couldn't give you that code. Let me make this excruciatingly obvious for you. I. Can't. Work. That. Thing."

Ian was past the point of obnoxious and well on his way to becoming completely intolerable. He even sounded irritating to his own ears - not that he cared, of course.

Wonky Nose was obviously not amused, either. "You weren't in the room when Arnoldworked on the computer?"

"No! Well, yes, uh, technically. Look, I had been tossed around by a _Tyrannosaur_; computers were the last thing on my mind. I was barely conscious for half the time."

The man clicked his tongue in annoyance. He didn't appreciate Ian's sarcasm and he definitely wasn't about to stand for it. "So, what you're saying is that you're useless?"

"Yes! Totally. Completely. Utterly useless, that's me."

"You hear that?" He said, turning to his small crowd of henchmen "he's utterly useless."

Malcolm felt an unsure smile play across his lips.

"Well then tell me, Dr. Malcolm, what is the point of keeping you around?"

It was then that he realised, too little too late, that he had perhaps said the wrong thing.


	6. Impulse

A sheet of heavy rain teemed down glumly. That, along with the overgrown dense foliage and the darkness made finding your way around an endless jungle extremely difficult, as Grant was forced to find out the hard way.

At first he had been anxious, maybe a little nervous, when he had seen the brachiosaurus' again. But there was also a sense of... well, almost relief. Even of familiarity. There seemed to be fewer then he remembered, but it was still breathtaking.

Ever since the flight he had taken home off the island, everything prior that had happened there had seemed unreal, like it had been a dream. It was hard for him to imagine the reality of what he had seen, done, and encountered when he was back to bones again. The dig of a raptor skeleton seemed just like it always had; the digging up of bones that belonged to a creature that roamed the earth a very long time ago. Although it sounded like a good thing, it was in some ways quite disappointing. Grant had almost missed the feeling of being so close to living, breathing, _real_ prehistoric creatures. He couldn't deny that as potentially hazardous as these things were, he was fascinated.

He had climbed a tree for a better view. He told himself he needed a better view of the land, so he could decide where to next, but in all honesty, he wanted to see the dinosaurs.

The closest one was actually quite far back, grazing. Like a giant cow.

Well, not exactly like a giant cow, but they had the same sort of look to them. Same blank expressions, same eating habits - except, of course, when they ate from tall tree branches with their long necks, no cow Grant had ever seen had been able to do that.

He could hear their soft moans, like dull foghorns. Low pitched, hollow and resounding. Their slow, sluggish movements were almost mesmerising, and it had taken a lot of willpower for Alan to remind himself why he was there and to get back on track.

He surveyed the area. Or what little he could decipher through the thick sheet of downpour. Most of it meant little to him, as the grass, bushes and trees all looked the same. He found himself wishing, and not for the first time, that Ellie was with him. She would be telling him which plant was which, how to identify them, where they usually grew. And he would have listened, though taken very little in. It was just so cute when she babbled.

Although he and Ellie were still so close, it seemed to him like they were drifting. It had never really been the same since they'd come off the island, and it probably never would be again.

He sighed, suddenly homesick. It had been such a mistake to follow Ian. It wasn't like he was Grant's responsibility. Whatever he had gotten himself into, it was probably his own fault. Besides, he was a grown man, he could take care of himself. Plus, Alan didn't exactly think the world of Ian. He didn't even really _want_ to see him again.

Well, whatever. He was there now, with no immediate way of turning back. Besides, just because he didn't _like_ the guy, didn't mean he deserved whatever those men had planned for him. It wouldn't really have been fair to just leave him.

As far as he could see, the land stretched out further north, and there didn't seem to be anything threatening occupying it. This didn't mean that there wasn't, and it also didn't mean that that's where he would find Ian, but he just had to keep an optimistic outlook on things, and hope that fate or luck or whatever was feeling bad for ending him up there in the first place.

* * *

"uughh..."

A feeble moan, but all that he could possibly conjure up.

He was soaked. He could feel his wet shirt sticking to his back, and his matted hair flatten out. He was wet and uncomfortable and hot and hungry and confused and... some other bad things that would require thinking to come up with. Something he wasn't in the mood to do.

Ian blinked. He was laying face down on soggy broken bits of twigs and leaves. Not the most comfortable things to be lying on.

"Oh..." he whispered. He knew where he was. He scrambled to his feet, and very nearly fell back down again. There were trees, and rain and darkness and bushes, and...more trees? Oh, God. He felt increasing panic rise until he was almost at the brink of hysteria. He spun quickly, to see even more trees, rain, darkness and bushes, and spun again to see the same again. He spun once more for good measure before collapsing back down in a pathetic heap on the floor. He was dizzy and tired and still very confused. Closing his eyes and sleeping seemed to be all he could do. He thought he should be in despair or something. He shuddered, maybe from the cold, or maybe because... there was something... something he needed to stop. It was important but he couldn't think. Sleep first...

...but how was he supposed to sleep when he was being shaken so violently? And how was he supposed to sleep when all he could hear was his name being frantically repeated. His brows furrowed in annoyance and he limply raised his arm to bat the offender away.

"Ian? Ian! Come on."

"uuh... gway..." he murmured. His words were slurred and half-hearted.

"No. Come on, get up."

This voice was becoming increasingly annoying. Who did he think he was, ordering him around? Ian shook his head weakly. "sleep..."

"Sleep later. You have to get up now, Ian, listen to me."

He was so sure of himself. What a self-assured bastard... what a...

And now what? He felt his body being lifted. Propped up for some unknown reason that he was in no mood to even _start_ to comprehend. He opened his eyes and tried to focus on the blurry shapes.

"Oh. You."

Grant smiled slightly in the darkness. "Yes. Me."

"Oh. _You_!" Ian lifted his head up quickly, his prior lassitude apparently forgotten. "You're... but...huh?"

Grant just shrugged.

"I think," Ian started, "or more like I don't think. I don't think...you can't be real."

"Well, I am. As far as I know."

"But... the probability of us both being back here on the same island at the same time is extremely low and the probability of us both even meeting is... pretty damn improbable. I mean, this is just such an unlikely coincidence."

"I know, what are the chances? It would make for a good story, though."

Perhaps it was the haze, but Ian didn't follow. "Huh?"

"You know, to tell people. When we get out of here."

Malcolm gave a desultory shrug. "I guess..."

"Besides, I thought you were into the whole Chaos Theory, nothing is predictable, expect the unexpected. Isn't that what it's about?"

"Well, along those lines."

There was a contemplative silence between them, which was at last broken by Ian. "Can I ask you something?"

"Shoot."

"What are you actually doing here? I think I missed that."

"God, I don't even know, it was stupid. I saw the hijackers on the plane, and...I guess I just followed you out."

"You're right you know."

"...about what?"

"It was stupid. You seem to have a habit of jumping from moving vehicles?"

"Yeah. Maybe I do. Us palaeontologists are just so damn impulsive. So, uhh, what happened to you?"

"I...err...I don't really know. As such."

Grant raised a questioning eyebrow.

"I don't really remember too much. I remember boarding a plane, and I remember something about peanuts, then a knife, the island and... it's really vague. There's something really important going on though. Something that needs to be stopped." His shoulders sagged. "I just can't remember what it is."


	7. Morphine

It was funny how things always seemed different in the morning when you'd had time to sleep and your brain was functioning properly.

At first, Grant hadn't wanted to sleep. It didn't seem like there was anything living in the area where he and Malcolm were, but he didn't like to risk it. Problem was, Ian was fast asleep - like a rock, almost literally. There was no way he could move him, especially to somewhere above the ground which is where he would have preferred to sleep. And then he decided he would just stay awake, keep guard, and maybe hit Ian around the head or something if they were unexpectedly attacked by anything. So he stayed awake while Malcolm slept. At first he was worried about letting him sleep and had tried to keep him awake, by talking or asking him things. He wasn't quite sure what had happened to Ian but he definitely didn't like the way it was making him sleepy all the time. When Grant had first seen him, and he refused to get up, he was very concerned and just had a feeling that he was supposed to keep the guy awake. This didn't last long, though, and eventually Grant had given up himself and decided to just let him sleep. Besides, he looked exhausted, and sleeping seemed like the best thing. He looked so cosy, just...sleeping...and Grant was really tired...

He had awoken with a start. Suddenly, it was light. He hadn't meant to fall asleep; it kind of defeated the point of being on guard. But after a quick check, he decided that he hadn't been eaten and that all his limbs and body parts were intact. And with a short glance at Malcolm, it appeared that he had also not been dinner, so all was well. He was still sleeping, though, which concerned Grant a little.

After a moment's hesitation, he got up and went for a very quick walk. It was both to stretch his legs, and to get to know his surroundings a little better. He hadn't had much chance to the night before, and being stationary in an area he knew nothing about probably wasn't the best way to survive Jurassic Park.

By the time he got back he was hardly any wiser, and decided it would just be better if they could get moving as soon as possible.

Ian was still sat, propped against the tree. He was awake. He stared forwards blankly with an absent look on his face, a stance that most people mistook for thinking. In fact, whenever he stared forwards absently, that's exactly what he was; absent.

There was a dull pain in his right leg - the one that had been injured on his last visit, too.

Out the corner of his eye, his mind processed that Alan had just returned from wherever it was he had been.

"I've been thinking," he announced.

"A dangerous pastime."

Grant ignored him. "I don't like it here. I feel uneasy. Do you know exactly where we are?"

Ian thought about this question, turning it over and over in his head before answering simply. "No."

"So you think it's best if we go?"

He remained staring forward.

Grant took a deep breath. He didn't really need this right now; he just wanted to go home. "Well?"

"Well what?"

"Well are we going or what?" He turned, ready to leave.

Malcolm hadn't moved. He shot him an irritated glare. "Get up."

"Uh, I can't."

Each move sent shuddering, burning pains up his right leg. Clasping his hands around it, Ian pressed on his trouser leg, searching for an open fracture or wound. He couldn't feel anything and he didn't think it was broken. He wasn't sure, but he did know that moving it was painful.

Grant leant down and slung his arm around his shoulder. He stood up, and Ian leant his weight onto his other foot and onto Alan. Why was he so intent on finding a way out? He took a step forward, and Ian hobbled. "Ooow! ow. I don't think I can walk. Maybe I should stay here..."

"If you really want to, Ian. But if I find what I'm looking for, I'm not coming back to get you if that's what you think."

Ian sighed and peered around at his surroundings. "It's not such a bad place to Happy Home in."

Grant grinned and carried on forwards.

It had seemed like hours before they finally got out of the foliage and to the open fields. In reality it had been only twenty minutes. Ian's leg was hurting like crazy.

_What I wouldn't do for some morphine right about now,_ he thought miserably.

"Hey!" Grant suddenly exclaimed, pointing like a madman at a broken log. "I know that log!"

"That's a shame, we haven't yet been properly acquainted."

He ignored him. "That means... I know how to get to the main Jurassic Park building from here! And I know the way out from there, come on!"

Some kind of warning bells started to ring in Ian's mind. He stayed put. "Nooo. No, no, no. Something tells me 'no' about that building. We can't just barge in there."

"Why not?"

"I'm not entirely sure. I think there's something going on in there."

"Well we'll be cautious. We have to get there; maybe the phones are still up."

"Uhm, I guess. But, uh, that means more trekking time, right?"

"I'm afraid so."

"Okay, even at the best of times, I'd be worried this, but do you really think it's wise that we do this, seeing as I can't run or even walk away from anything that wants to eat me?"

"No, not really. Have a better plan you wish to share?"

"Yeah, why don't we just get a huge glowing sign that reads: 'FREE FOOD'?"

"That's so stupid," Grant sighed in annoyance. "Dinosaurs can't read."

"Ha, ha." Ian mock-laughed. "But I'm serious. Well, okay, not about the sign, but I mean, this is just... not a good idea."

"What other choice is there? Don't worry, I've had to drag two kids around with me in this place and that turned out great. It'll be okay."

Perhaps it was the emphasis he put on the word 'great' that worried Malcolm. "Well, what if it's not? What if we never get found or we run into those men, or even into a Tyrannosaur?" Although he was being almost sarcastic, just the thought of seeing one of...those... again, sent sudden chills down his spine and he actually, physically _shuddered_.

Grant had to admit that he hadn't thought that far ahead. He hadn't wanted to think about the what if's, it was no way to survive if you just gave up hope. But Ian had a point; there was such a slim chance of them staying alive for even the rest of the _hour_.

He sighed. "Well, I don't know. We run, I guess." He shot an apologetic look when he realised what he had said. "Or, y'know, hobble, in your case."

"Right, okay, I'm dead already." He rolled his eyes and said, in a more light-hearted tone. "I can't believe I have to trust you."

"Me neither."

The pair continued on, albeit very slowly.

* * *

-- I don't think Ian's morphine obsession was brought up in the film, but it was always been my favourite part of his book character. 


	8. Staring Death In The Face

Ian couldn't remember when the last time he ate was. He hadn't even eaten the day he boarded the plane. That's what the peanuts had been for. He was tired and very hungry and in pain. Most of all he just wished he could be somewhere else. Hell, even delivering a lecture in Costa Rica would be more fun then he was having at that very minute.

He leaned his head back and looked up at the pale blue sky. No birds. It was somewhat eerie, just to think about where he was, and how different things there were. It's almost like stepping back in time, in a way.

"Are you hungry?" Grant asked, looking up from tying his shoelace.

Ian shot him a hopeful look. "Do you have any food?"

"Nope,"

"Oh," he looked around for a minute. "Any water?"

"No. The river's not far from here, though."

"Oh, good." He paused. "Does this mean that we have to get up again?"

"Yeah."

He frowned. It almost didn't seem worth it.

He didn't get much more time to mentally whinge before he noticed that Grant had already got up and seemed ready to do more hiking.

Ian narrowed his eyes at him. "You're enjoying this, aren't you?" He accused. "You outdoor types actually do this for _fun_."

Alan laughed. The kind of laugh that suggested the person it was coming from did not seem exhausted by all the trekking he had been doing, which further annoyed Ian.

"Ah, it's not so bad."

Ian was not convinced.

"Well, anyway, we have to be heading ...uh..." he stretched out his arm and pointed to the left of their original route, "this way."

"Uhm, are you sure? It's just, this is the third time you've changed our direction like this. If I didn't know any better, I'd say you were lost."

"Nonsense. Just a few...minor tactical errors. Nothing big. Now, c'mon, move."

He sighed and brooded to himself. Alan could be surprisingly stubborn sometimes. Too bad he had to find this out the hard way.

* * *

"Okay, I know I've seen this tree before. Great, do you know what this means?"

Ian knew perfectly well what it meant, but he also knew that it was one of those times where he was supposed to pretend that he didn't. He gave Alan a blank stare.

"It means," he started, oblivious to or ignoring Ian's silent sarcasm, "that we've been here before."

"Well, yeah, but it all turned out peachy in the end."

"No. We've been _here_ before, in this exact spot, about twenty minutes ago. We're going around in circles. We're lost."

Malcolm had worked this out a long time ago, but just hearing Alan admit it suddenly renewed him with a great sense of panic. He did not wish to be lost on the island. It was a pretty unlucky place to be lost on. Twice.

Oh, well. Ian was a pretty unlucky guy.

"This is bad." He stated, his tone lacking its usual sarcastic edge.

He was looking behind Grant, almost _through_ him. This unnerved Grant, almost as much as his dead-serious tone of voice. Nevertheless, he shook off this feeling and replied, "Yeah, I know. Don't worry, though I think I can-"

"No." Ian interrupted urgently. "_That's _bad."

He furrowed his eyebrows, but didn't get much more time to do anything else before he heard Ian shriek, "_THAT!!_"

Grant swivelled sharply around, his eyes growing wide with panic when he saw what Malcolm had seen.

There was a movement, about 200 metres away from where they were stood, and a creature stepped out from behind the foliage. It was not much bigger than a kid, about 4"7, stood upright on strong hind legs. Its forearms were equipped with three curved claws, and it looked scary. And it was staring at them. Its yellow eyes were fixed intently on both Grant and Malcolm, and they both (unfortunately) caught a glimpse at its jagged teeth, held in the jaws of its somewhat large head.

Both men were pretty much frozen for a few seconds as they stared at the dinosaur, and it, in turn, scrutinized them keenly.

"Deinonychus," Grant was surprised to hear himself whisper. "Flesh eater, lived around the time of-" _What the hell are you doing?_ A voice interrupted him. _Stop analysing it! Run!_

"Yeah, yeah, yeah, what do we do?" Ian shot back, his voice a sharp whisper.

"Uh, we, uh-" But Grant didn't get to finish his sentence. It was then that the Deinonychus stopped sizing them up, and went for the attack.

It moved fast, its meaty back legs pounding on the grass below it. Both Ian and Alan chose that moment to turn and run, Alan racing ahead, with Ian lagging behind considerably, dragging his foot as best he could.

Grant stopped and turned back, only to see the impeding creature catching up on it's wounded prey. Scanning the surrounding area quickly, Grant leapt upwards, his motive was to catch the overhanging tree branch and hoist himself up. He had misjudged the distance, however, and found that he was only grasping at air.

He fell hard on the ground below him. He felt broken twigs dig harshly into his back. _Ow._

The Deinonychus lifted its head, and saw him. It's previous prey forgotten (much to the relief of Malcolm who had slipped in his mad dash from the creature and had ended up cornered), it headed towards Grant (who was not so much relieved).

He shot straight to his feet at a speed that surprised even himself, and scrambled up the nearest tree.

As he heaved his body up, moving frantically, and trying not to think of what was below him, Grant got a sudden memory of himself as a child, in the same position as he was (minus, of course, the carnivorous, oversized lizard), climbing trees with friends. This sweet feeling of nostalgia was not enough to overpower the impending panic attack, however, and he gritted his teeth as he climbed higher.

He thought about Malcolm and stopped his ascent. He had managed to pull himself up onto an outstretched, sturdy branch, and his eyes darted frantically when he realised he had lost sight of both the mathematician and the dinosaur.

This couldn't really be a good thing, no matter how many different ways he looked at it.

* * *

Ian couldn't breathe. He cursed his bad luck, as he stared death in the face.

Death was in the form of a beast that should have died over 300 million years ago, and Death's breath stank.

Ian shut his eyes tight, and when he eventually opened them again, he found that he was staring at...well, nothing. No Death. No dinosaur.

He exhaled a deep breath that he had no idea he was holding, and desperately tried to scurry to his feet. He lost his balance and fell over, and tried again. This time he was triumphant.

He noticed that while the dinosaur was only momentarily distracted by Grant, it would soon be back for him, and he would be like a sitting target if he didn't move.

The problem was that he wasn't sure where to move. He couldn't run. There was no way he would be able to outrun such a beast at any normal time - or abnormal as the case so often was - but with his injury it would be near impossible. And there was nowhere for him to climb.

It was one of those moments, Ian thought glumly, where he would have to make a split-second decision that could ultimately end his life earlier than he would have wanted. And he hated those moments.

Dropping to the floor, he crawled towards an open log, hoping that he could at least keep a few more years of his life, even if only to get one last chance to successfully open a packet of airline peanuts.

Inside the log smelled damp and musky, and it just screamed claustrophobia. He could feel the broken bits of bark tangling themselves in his dishevelled black hair, and really wished they wouldn't. There was little he could do about it at that very moment, however, so he decided to let it rest.

He heard the thunder of approaching steps, obviously made by something weighing just a little more than you would expect an average human to. This could only really mean that the offender was, in fact, not human. Peachy.

Malcolm held his breath, though he wasn't entirely sure why, as he felt the log shudder. He didn't know if the Deinonychus was kicking the log, or pushing it or what, and nor, at that very moment in time, did he care. All he could concentrate on was the constant pounding that shook through his body.


	9. A Good Sign

Grant climbed down from the tree at a fast, but cautious pace. If that was even possible.

He didn't like the way the Deinonychus had just run away like it did. He hated the alarmed look on its face before it fled, and he was pretty sure why.

As soon as he was a few feet above the ground, he jumped down, inwardly wincing at the amount of noise he made.

He scanned around urgently for Ian. He did need to find him, but at the same time it was imperative that he get away as soon as possible. He heard a rustling from behind him.

"That was easy," Ian said as he raised himself up onto his feet and brushed himself off.

"We have to go." Grant informed him, and took off straight ahead.

Ian didn't even have to bother asking why, as he heard the thunderous footsteps that were almost deliberately slow. This time he really was frozen in terror. There was no mistaking these footsteps.

He exhaled a shuddery breath, and his right foot throbbed suddenly, maybe at the memory. He knew he had to move, but for some reason his feet didn't seem to.

Ian had never in his life experienced as much anxious dread before. He was really freaking out as his mind shouted many different things to him all at once, and it was all just a loud murmur as all the voices merged together in his mind. One voice pierced through the rest, though, which was accompanied by as grasp on his wrist, and a sudden tug.

This snapped him out of his stupor in time to see that he was being dragged and weaved through the foliage of the forest, and was surprised to notice that even though both of his feet were beating hard on the ground, he couldn't feel them. In fact, he couldn't really feel anything, and found himself thinking that, in a way, adrenaline was like the ultimate natural morphine substitute. This was a positive thought, and it almost took away his prior worry of being eaten alive.

Almost.

Grant didn't know where they were going, but he knew that neither him nor Ian could keep running for much longer. In fact, it was pure adrenaline that was keeping them both from keeling over and probably having a stroke.

However, the footsteps persisted, and he knew it wouldn't be long before the Tyrannosaur caught up.

Climbing was out of the question because of the sheer size of the creature. Running was pointless. Digging was both stupid and time-consuming. And they were fast running out of options.

He spun to see the huge creature approaching. Although moving at a relatively slow pace, it's huge, burly hind legs covered more ground in one single step then Grant liked to think about. It was soon close to them, no more then 10 feet away, and Grant could _feel_ its breath on his face. He shuddered, understandably, when he found himself staring straight at its yellowed, jagged, and tremendously threatening teeth.

"Ian," he whispered, and was slightly perplexed by his own broken voice, "just stay totally still,"

"Believe me, that will not be hard to do,"

Ian stared into beady, yellow eyes. They were comically small in proportion to the rest of its features yet nothing to laugh about. In the centre of the yellow was a small, round black pupil that was fixed onto Ian. It was actually _staring_ at him. Ian was trembling. He didn't believe he had ever been so scared. Ever since his last happy encounter with the Rex, he had developed the biggest phobia of Tyrannosaurus' that probably anybody on earth had ever experienced. Not that anybody on earth wouldn't be terrified anyway.

It was something about the teeth. They had the hugest jaws, which boasted god knew how many teeth, sharp and dagger-like. Teeth that could do unimaginable amounts of damage to the body - only they couldn't be _totally_ unimaginable, as images were flitting through Ian's mind at that precise second. Although it was hard to recall the pain he had experienced when a set of those grinded as easily into his flesh as putty, he had a pretty good impression.

The dinosaur leaned closer to the two men, sniffing the air, its nostrils flaring madly.

_It knows we're here_, Ian realised. A huge knot formed in the pit of his stomach, and he shuddered more frantically then before. He hated to see the moist scales on its face so closely, he could see all the imperfections in its skin. This means it was well past his point of 'too close for comfort'. He gulped hastily at the thing that was towering over 20 feet above them, and wondered just how long he could stay still before fainting on the spot. The monster leaned closer, and sniffed more manically at the air surrounding Ian and Grant. Ian could feel his hair being sucked forwards. _Inhaled_, almost.

The dinosaur seemed totally frustrated by this point, knowing there was food but not able to see it. It snapped wildly at them.

"Get down!" Ian heard Grant warn, and he was on the floor before he could even process one thought. And above him, _inches_ above him, were the powerful jaws of the Rex.

This time, it really _was_ too close. This time, he really did faint.

* * *

Grant shuffled sideways in one of the swiftest moves of his life. His heart was the loudest thing he could hear, and he could _feel_ it beating rapidly in his chest. All other noise droned out, and every movement was in time to the beating. Duck. Move. Side. Snap.

The dinosaur roared in frustration before giving up. It took a step forward, missing Malcolm's limp body by mere centimetres. The impact of the foot on the ground actually knocked Grant over onto the floor, where he stayed until he was sure the attacker had gone.

He would even have stayed longer if he wasn't convinced that he'd only get attacked by something else.

He was breathless as he sat up. He recovered his hat from the ground next to him as he stared at Ian. He was breathing. A good sign.


	10. Revelation

Ian stirred blearily, vaguely aware of a sense of movement.

"I'm getting pretty tired of hauling you around all the time," he heard a voice.

He blinked, blinked again, and by the third blink, he was pretty sure that he was not in the jaws of a Tyrannosaur. Still, there was only one way to make sure.

"Ugh...wha..."

"What happened? Well there you were, about to get snapped in half, and the next second you'd passed out or something. You have to stop doing that."

"Sorry,"

"And then _I_ had to lug you around with me again, and, y'know, you're pretty heavy for a skinny guy."

"So... have you thought anymore about a plan?"

"Me?" Grant snapped. "You could probably help if you weren't so busy being incessantly unconscious."

Ian was quick to anger, in even his groggy state. "I said sorry. It's not like I can help it. I didn't _ask _to come here."

"Yeah, like I did?" was Grant's almost sneering reply. As close as the guy got to 'sneering', anyway.

"You had a choice."

"It wasn't much of one. And I wouldn't have had to if you didn't piss off whoever brought you here!"

"I didn't do anything!" He was certain he didn't, even if he couldn't remember the exact details. "It was me as easily as it could have been you or - or _anyone_!"

Grant scoffed. "So it was just pure, simple luck that it happened to be you? Out of all the people on the plane? Right."

"_They want the vials!_"

This statement was a sure-fire argument stopper. Both raised voices suddenly went quiet as they processed this.

Ian furrowed his brow, trying to recall this snippet of information that had unexpectedly come to him. "Yeah... yeah that's it. That's why I'm here. They needed a code to get into the freezer room. They want that DNA."

"They needed a computer code, so they asked _you?_"

"Hey, I'm not _that_ bad with the things!"

"No, I mean… I just thought they'd be able to get it themselves, I guess."

"I don't know. I think there was some kind of trap door program that prevented them from getting into the system,"

Grant shook his head slowly. "Wait, this hardly makes sense. I mean, the freezer room ... there's no way the vials are still in working order."

Malcolm shrugged. "It wasn't the vials they were after. They needed to crack the computer system."

Alan was thinking furiously now, yet he still couldn't make sense of much. "Why do they need the code, if the vaults have all been destroyed? What could they get out of it if there is nothing of any use there?"

"Maybe," Ian started, "you're thinking too locally,"

"So you're saying what they want isn't here?"

"I'm saying that perhaps this code works for any of the InGen systems."

"Oh my-..." Grant uttered in disbelief. "You think Hammond kept backup DNA?"

"I'm almost positive,"

"What was he going to do with it, create a franchise?!" Looking back on the situation now, Grant felt like an idiot for ever thinking that what Hammond was doing could be a good thing, even just for the first few minutes. There he was, someone who explores history, and he hadn't even been worried that the things he had been digging from the ground just a few weeks prior were reality. He had been..._excited_. He supposed he had to give it to Ian for being sceptical from the start. He was right, and at first, he had been the only person to voice such anxieties. Yet, although he had talked about how much of a bad idea it was, and how naive everyone was being, and he warned about how it would all backfire and bite them in the arse, there was an unmistakable sense of school-boy enthusiasm when he had witnessed a baby dinosaurs first glance of the world, and when he was so close to a triceratops that he could actually touch it. (Alan had also noticed his flirtatious manor when he had first met Ellie; that much had not gone amiss.) Grant had always suspected that, although he would never admit it, Ian was as excited about the project as everyone else had been at first. However, that had all changed.

And despite the fact that Hammond himself had admitted that Jurassic Park was not a good idea after all, there had always been this nagging feeling that he hadn't seen the end of it all.

As far as he knew, what was happening now had nothing to do with John Hammond, yet this didn't make the feeling go away.

"You know he'll never learn. Some people just don't," Ian sighed. "He could have destroyed everything. The plans, the blueprints, the technology... the _DNA_, even... but I'm pretty sure it's all sitting somewhere in the InGen headquarters, safe and sound, while we're here yet again, trying to prevent the same mistake being made. It's pointless. There will always be someone who wants to do something this stupid, as long as humans roam this planet."

"Do you know that they're going to re-create the dinosaurs?"

"No, but I can't think what else they'll do with it apart from maybe sell it onto someone else who will. And even if not, there's always the chance that it could get stolen or something. As long as it's around, it's dangerous." He now sighed, sure that he had already said something along the same lines the last time he was here, and it seemed to make little difference. He was tired of pointing all this out when he wouldn't even have to if people could just think outside the box before going ahead and doing whatever it is they wanted to do. "Do you ever feel that sometimes, things should just be left alone?"

* * *

Malcolm huffed noisily, scrambling to keep up with his determined, if not slightly naive cohort. He was exhausted and his legs ached like crazy. He could feel the muscles in his upper-thigh strain with each relentless step and wondered if it would just be better to keel over forwards and rest for a few hundred years. He certainly felt like he would, if things continued as they were.

Ahead of him, Grant continued his strides, trying desperately to give the impression that he was unaffected by the amount of walking and lack of food, drink and sleep. He wasn't fooling anyone, though; Ian could tell from his weakening pace and increasing gasping that the situation was starting to take its toll on him as well.

And why not? Alan was human. He may not like to admit it, but he couldn't keep going on directionless forever.

After talking it over, they had both decided that they needed more than ever to get back to the main building. It was dangerous being out in the open and they also needed to prevent the wackos in black from gaining hold of any information that could aid them in the unlocking of the computer systems.

Just _how_ they were going to go about doing this had not really been a point they had delved too deep into, although, in reflection of the conversation Malcolm decided that it was a pretty important point nonetheless.

So they had set out to get to the building, take down the organisation and get the hell away from Nublar. A plan, or a course of action would be a useful thing for such a goal, but neither of them could think of anything and presumed it would come to them.

It didn't come to them.

And they continued despite this, against Malcolm's better judgement.

Ian wasn't sure how long it had been since they set off. He was aware of changes in their surroundings, yet it all looked pretty similar, anyway. Between breaks and naps, he also noticed that since setting off, the sky had grown dark and was becoming light once again.

Basically, they had been walking a while.

During that time, they had come across many different kinds of creatures, each one amazing and disappointing the mathematician at the same time.

He had not done much walking on his last journey. (In fairness, his injured leg made doing that a little complicated). As a result, he hadn't had the chance to actually witness the wondrous things first hand. (Except the carnivores, he'd had his fair share of them).

At one point he had even stopped to look over at a herd of duck-billed creatures, eating foliage from tree branches and bushes resting on the grass.

They stood about 15 feet tall, on sturdy back legs. Some were pacing about the area, walking on all fours with shorter forearms and hoof-like nails on their feet. They had huge, bulky bodies which were covered right up to their stiff tails with thick, greeny-yellow scales.

Watching them as they were seemed almost relaxing. They were so calm and care-fee - it really wasn't very fair.

Grant turned when he noticed he wasn't being followed, and stalked softly behind Ian. The sight had pretty much the same effect on him, and for a long stretch of time neither man said a thing.

"The hadrosaurus - they're so peaceful,"

"It's... spectacular to see," Alan agreed.

Ian shook his head glumly. "They shouldn't even be here,"

And yet, they were.

They didn't seem particularly bothered that they were in all aspects defying the laws of nature. They didn't lose sleep wondering why they were there and what their purpose was.

Perhaps he was just too philosophical. Ian often tended to get caught up in deep thought about things which would never change anyway. He even more often found himself preaching these thoughts to anyone who will listen and even those that won't. It couldn't be helped.

They had continued shortly after this break, stopping only a few more times in the day to watch more dinosaurs. Malcolm couldn't deny that he was intrigued. Watching them, watching their behaviour and mannerisms and just the things they did was something that not everybody could claim to have done. He knew Grant must have been going crazy without a notepad and a pen. It was exciting to be able to watch the creatures he had been studying for past few years - especially when he had been studying their extinction. This, however, only filled him with more determination that they _should be _extinct and the simple fact they weren't was bad. And it couldn't continue, InGen should not have the technology because it's just not _right_.

Apart from these unscheduled stops and the occasional break and short sleep time, there was only one other time Grant and Malcolm had paused their trek.

It was outside what appeared to be a run-down looking grey structure - sort of like a brick shed. It was about two meters long each way and didn't look at all interesting. Ian guessed it must be a maintenance building or something like one. They had spent a few minutes trying to get it open, but gave up quickly, deciding that it was probably filled with so-called 'useful' things like can openers. (The problem with those being that you need _cans_ to open.)

Ian peered up at the dim sky, watching the colours gradient and merge. It was strange how the process from dark, ebony night sky can change into a sunny pale blue within an hour right above you, and yet you never see it change.

Yeah, he got like this when he was bored.

"Grant?"

From a few meters ahead of him, the figure turned, tipped his hat skywards for a better view and answered simply: "Hmm?"

"Where are we going?"

He shrugged. "Got me."

Ian adopted a pensive expression, unsure of how to take this. After a time, he merely shrugged and persisted to follow the palaeontologist.

* * *

"So the building is on the other side of this river?"

"Yep."

"So we have to cross it?"

"Yep."

"Have anything in mind?"

"Nope."

Grant stared out across the water. It was pretty, the way the sun cast dancing sparkles on the surface. The stillness of the water was almost calming, even with everything that was going on. Next to him, Ian was sat, rolling his trousers up. He gingerly dipped his right foot into the water, like he was testing the temperature. Grant knew why he was actually reluctant, because the thought had crossed his own mind.

How did they know something wouldn't bite their feet off?

The truth was that he didn't, but he would take his chances, as he didn't really want to dehydrate.

It was really hot. For half the time he couldn't see straight because of the amount of sunshine in his eyes, and for the other, he couldn't think straight because the heat was making him tired and apathetic. It wasn't the best climate to be stuck where they were, but Grant was used to all kinds of weather because of the amount of time he spent travelling. He was a little concerned for Malcolm, though. His thick black clothes were maybe not best suited for the kind of weather they were experiencing. He was paler than usual, and he was sweating a lot and Grant noticed that his lips were dry and cracked. However, he seemed okay, and there was little anyone could do at that time anyway, so he pushed his worries to the back of his mind.

Malcolm was feeling more hungry than dehydrated. His stomach had been growling in protest at the lack of food all day, and it was actually causing him physical pain. How he longed for a McDonalds. But he had found out, to his mild surprise, that there were no McDonalds' in what was - in effect - an isolated, pre-historic island.

Which was a shame, really, because he could have really done with a Big Mac.

He knew there was food at the main building, and this fact alone was basically the only thing that was driving him to go back. Because he really didn't want to go back.

Not that Grant would have any of it. He was so determined that it would help them to get off the island. Two men who were effectively drained and weakened by a trek around a dinosaur-ridden land mass against god-knew-how-many armed men who were on guard and most likely healthy (physically at least) were not odds he wished to wager on.

They were - well and truly - screwed.

This wouldn't stop Alan. He was one of those 'die trying' people that Ian both loathed and admired at the same time - and that could get a little confusing, as he had quite quickly learnt.

"Okay, so you're the mathematician; how is this gonna work?"

Ian had to take a few minutes before answering to work out what being a mathematician had to do with knowing how to cross the river. He failed to come to any kind of conclusion and frankly it made his brain hurt.

Grant tutted. "Come on you're supposed to be the intelligent one. How did you ever gain your qualifications?"

Ian leaned back against the bank, his hands covering his face and muffling his voice slightly. "I dunno. Slept with the teacher."

Alan grinned and shook his head before remembering that now was not the best time to be cheerful, or even anything like it. "We could always walk _around_ the water. Take longer, though."

"No, we don't _have_ longer. I'm for a quick-fix solution."

"Okay; think of one."

Malcolm sat up and tried to concentrate, frowning in a thoughtful manor. Although this didn't help him think, exactly, it gave the impression that he was and so was better than nothing. His eyes lit up in a sudden 'light bulb' moment.

"A raft!"

"That's great, Ian! A raft! Why didn't I think of that? You know, now the hard part is out of the way, all we have to do is _FIND ONE_!"

Ian didn't like his tone. Partly because he preferred that the sarcasm was left to himself and partly because Grant was right. He exhaled noisily and stared up at his friend. "Good point."

The two were silent again, each mulling in their own thoughts.

"Hey," Ian spoke by way of breaking the stillness. "You don't suppose Hammond left stuff around here for a situation such as this?"

"No, not really."

"Think about it. They're working out here, maybe even before they put the dinosaurs on this island. They're gonna need to get across, right?"

"They had cars for transport. And what, do you think there's just gonna be some conveniently placed shed with a raft and some oars?"

"Actually." Ian placed an arm out onto the grass and rose to his feet, ignoring the tingling sensation shooting itself down his right foot from the way he had been sat. He strode purposely off around the river.

"Ian? Where are you-?" Grant sighed. It was a waste of time, he knew it, but he wanted to believe that Ian was onto something. He stood, cast one last look at his surroundings and chased after his friend.


	11. Huckleberry Finn

Ian stopped directly outside a derelict, small structure. It was the shed-looking storage unit they had passed earlier. He guessed if there were going to be any kind of way of getting across the water, it would most likely be stored there. It was really quite logical.

Grant stood behind him, a pensive look on his face. Ian almost expected him to start stroking his chin. "Hmm.. that's quite an intelligent thought,"

Malcolm turned to him, a questioning right eyebrow raised. "_Why_ do you sound so surprised?"

Ignoring his question, Grant approached the shed cautiously as if it were likely to jump out and snap at him.

Although that would hardly be much of a surprise. Couldn't put anything past this island.

He reached out to the door, knocking lightly on the hollow material. He then stepped back and cocked his head.

"Right." He spun his head, looking around his surroundings. "We could knock this down, take a look inside. If only we could find something..."

"Like a log?"

"That would be perfect. Are there any logs around?"

"No,"

Grant clicked his tongue thoughtfully. "Well, I don't know what else we could use. Is there anything around?" He began searching the area surrounding the unit; looking for what, Malcolm didn't know. But he figured, while he tried that, he could try the door handle.

The door squeaked open slightly, and he pushed it to reveal a dark, damp room. A damp, musty smell invaded his nostrils, and it was hard for him to see his own hand centimetres in front of his face.

Grant came around from the back of the building. "How did you-... never mind. Can you see anything of use in there?"

Ian shot him an evil glare. Ineffective, as Grant couldn't see it, but it made him feel slightly better. "I can't see anything, period."

"Have you got a light?"

"Yeah. I just happen to be carry-- yaaah!" This cry was followed closely by a _bump_, then by a crashing of equipment and a thunderous noise as bits and pieces rolled across the floor.

"What stuff just fell over then?" Grant asked excitedly. "It sounded like boat oars!"

"I'm fine, thanks," Malcolm muttered. "Let me just pick myself up..." He grabbed at the objects he had tripped on, thrusting them angrily at Grant's chest.

"This is perfect, Ian!" He exclaimed. "Now all we need is a boat..."

"Hey," he mumbled, brushing himself off "if you want to go look, be my guest,"

Alan merely shrugged, and stepped cautiously into the building, fumbling blindly in the darkness. The building - from the outside at least - appeared to be small, and so he hoped it wouldn't be long before he hit the wall on the other side.

Sure enough, he did. He felt along the concrete wall with his finger tips, unsure of what exactly he hoped to find. But after feeling a rise in the wall, and what felt like a wide metal panel, he knew he'd found something.

"Ian?" His voice seemed to get sucked up by the blackness that engulfed him. "Ian?" He repeated, this time louder. After a moment or so, he heard the clutter of objects being knocked around clumsily, and guessed it must be the inelegant mathematician. "It feels like a door," he reported.

"Does it open?"

Grant tried it. It was heavy and stiff, and probably hadn't been opened in a while. He grunted, focusing what little strength he had left of his experience in the last few days on the door. He was rewarded by a loud squeak, as the door opened a fraction, beaming in a thin line of dim sunlight. He sighed heavily from the effort. "This... would be a lot easier... if I had your help,"

"Well as soon as I find you..." Ian muttered back. A moment later, both men were pushing hard at the door, and it creaked open progressively.

Eventually, they had a gap big enough for them to squeeze through. They both stared forwards for a moment, unsure of what was on the other side.

"After you," Malcolm offered, in the politest move he had made since being stranded.

"Hah. Nice try." Grant smiled. "But you're skinnier. Go,"

Ian complied (though not without making a fuss). He pushed himself through the opening cautiously, making his way down a paved road dug below ground level. Alan followed behind him silently.

Towards the edge of the lagoon, there was a dock with the words 'RAFT STORAGE' stencilled onto it. It was the most glorious thing both Ian and Alan had seen for what seemed to them to be a very, very long time.

They both continued down the road, making their way to the small concrete dock. Grant unlatched the door of the green shed at the end on the dock, searching for rafts. Sure enough, there sat a rubber cube, strapped tight with belts, in all it's deflated splendour.

He heaved it out, onto the dock, where Malcolm freed the belts, searching for the inflation cylinder. The high-pitched _hiss_, followed by the _whump_ of the expanding raft made both men jump backwards, startled.

"Well," Ian stated casually. "Let's get going then."

* * *

"I feel like Huckleberry Finn,"

This was an odd comment, Grant thought, considering the source. "Do you even know the story of Huckleberry Finn?"

Ian adopted a face of mock-insult. "I seem to remember a raft in there somewhere."

"Hmm," Grant agreed half-heartedly, scanning the far-away banks. It just didn't feel _safe_, being in the middle of nowhere. "But I don't think Huckleberry Finn had dinosaurs to deal with."

"No," Malcolm agreed. "I don't remember that,"

They lapsed into a silence of the awkward kind. The air that hung before them seemed almost heavy. Neither had much to say to each other at the best of times, but having to spend the last few days together had pretty much exhausted all conversation.

It was times like this Ian wished he had Monopoly.

"Hey, Ian?" Grant tapped him on the shoulder, then leaned out to the right of the raft. "When everybody was screwing around with the computers on our last visit, you got a look at the species of dinosaur InGen kept here, right?"

"No. Not really. Why?"

"Nothing. No reason."

Malcolm frowned. "Well, it obviously isn't 'nothing', is it?"

"Ah, no."

This was tiring. "Cut it out, Grant. Just tell... me..."

It was obvious he'd seen it, too. "What do you think it is?"


	12. Plan of Action

The movement in the water continued, creating light ripples across the otherwise still surface of the river. Ian wished it wouldn't move like that because frankly it unsettled him.

Whatever it was, it was moving to the surface of the water. And it seemed to be headed towards their raft. Never a good sign.

"There!" Grant pointed. Ian followed his gaze. They both leaned across to the side of the raft, trying not to cause it to tip, but at the same time attempting to get a better look at … whatever the hell it was. It was hard to tell – the creature was obscured by the water – but they both noticed as it twisted below the water. Its movements seemed natural. Whatever it was, it was definitely aquatic.

"Can you see anything?" Grant asked. Ian peered over the edge of the raft but the dinosaur was too far away to see anything clearly.

"Not particularly."

"How big is it?"

Ian frowned. "Can't tell. It keeps moving." He watched it for a little, then said. "Uh, Grant. I think it's coming towards us."

He paused. "Why would it do that?"

"I don't know. I hope it's friendly."

"Metriorhyncus," Alan whispered. If Ian hadn't known better, he'd have believed Grant was talking in tongues. As it went, he did know better. He just hoped Grant was wrong.

"I don't know. It seems bigger." Although that wasn't necessarily promising news. But then if it was a Metriorhyncus they didn't have much hope. As with most crocodiles, it wasn't known for its docile behaviour. "I wish I could see it a little better." On second thoughts, he kind of didn't. He didn't wish to get too close to it at all.

"You say it's coming towards us?"

"I sure hope not."

Grant sat back in the raft, thinking furiously. "Perhaps it's just passing." The river didn't seem big enough to host many water dinosaurs. Although now he was beginning to suspect it was deeper then he first thought.

"Maybe it's curious." Ian stated. Before much more could be said, there was a sudden whhosh as the water ripples parted and the top of the creature glided gracefully across the surface before diving a little deeper again. That split-second of sighting was all the men needed.

"Short, pointed snout." Grant pointed out.

"Too wide to be a Metriorhyncus," Ian breathed out of relief.

"Too big, too." Alan agreed.

"Did you see that?" Malcolm was starting to get excited. "Did you see the eyes?"

Grant smiled, too. "Yeah."

"Ichthyosaur." He almost beamed.

"Ophthalmosaurus." Grant specified, equally as pleased as his friend with the sighting. It was like an odd bonding session.

Ian leaned back against the soft edge of the raft. "Wow."

* * *

Time had passed since the exciting encounter, and once again the men were stuck in difficult silence. They were nearing the land now and they really needed to get some form of act together before facing the trouble they knew they were getting themselves into. 

"What's the plan?" Ian picked mindlessly at the leaf he held. He knew little of plant life and what was prehistoric or what was just a leaf. This one looked plain old leafish to him, but one could never be too sure.

Grant shrugged. "I guess we make our way to the building," he started.

"Uh huh. What then?"

"We then find out how to get off this island."

"I see." Malcolm paused. "Such a simple plan of action. But how exactly do we do that? Bearing in mind that building is teeming with god knows how many scary criminals."

"Well, uh. We… we try to be… quiet?"

Ian blinked, and stared at Grant, who appeared to be deadly serious. "Do we have a better plan?"

"Ah. No." He admitted with a shrug. Ian dropped his head into his hands. Despair was an emotion he was now very familiar with. He had little time to wallow in it, however, as they had reached their destination.


	13. Food for Thought

"I _really_ don't like this at all, Alan." Ian whispered to his friend. "Something is wrong."

It went without saying, but Ian liked to state the obvious because he got to talk a lot without much thought on his part. But something _was_ wrong, and somebody had to put voice to the unsettling feeling that was certainly growing in the pits of both men's (empty) stomachs.

After much deliberation and hesitation, they had decided to stick to Grant's frankly ridiculous improvised plan and sneak into the building from the back. It hadn't been too hard, as they knew the basic layout pretty well from being chased by raptors the last time. It was an experience you didn't tend to forget.

Though the level of danger that presented itself in this circumstance was certainly not less than the first time around, it was at least of a different variety. A dinosaur could rip apart your flesh, but a man with a gun could shoot a hole in your chest. Either way led to a fatal outcome, but it was fun to shake things up every once in a while.

Understandably, extra caution had been taken when creeping around the building. Collective hearts were in collective mouths as the two explored each room, slowly rounding every corner with the expectation that their heads might well be shot right off their shoulders before they had a chance to do anything about it. No shots came. More rooms were charted. Nobody was about.

They were getting bolder by the minute; probably a mistake, sure, but it was hard to keep the stealth thing up when it appeared there was nobody around to see you. Or not see you.

"You're absolutely _sure_ this is where they took you?" Grant asked quietly.

"Yes, I'm sure!" Ian snapped, less quietly. "I hope I would remember being kidnapped."

Grant held up his hands quickly. "Okay, okay." He kept his voice controlled and soft. He didn't want to further irritate the man into shouting their location. Ian Malcolm apparently did not know the meaning of the word 'covert'. "I wasn't accusing you of that. But you were drugged or something when I found you, Ian. You were confused and you had gaps of memory missing. Are you sure you didn't just associate this place with the men because it was a main location for you the last time?"

Well, Malcolm had no smart response to that. It all sounded quite logical. And if he were honest with himself (he generally tried not to be) then he would have to admit he wasn't 100 certain of anything since coming onto Nublar. But he based his belief of the men being in the building on gut instinct, something he found himself relying on rather a lot, especially recently.

"I…" he hesitated. "I'm pretty confident that this could have been where I was taken. Maybe."

Grant held out a steadying hand, and indication of 'hold that thought' as he rounded the corner to the next room. Malcolm was quiet as he watched.

"Uh... about the reason the building is empty." Alan started. "I think we have our answer."

Ian peered over his shoulder into a big, light room that was mostly empty, save for one upturned table, light, shredded up curtains that hung loosely from their pole, and a splattering of red decorating the far right wall. The scene reminded Ian of an exhibition he'd seen in a modern art gallery a few years ago. He hadn't understood that. He understood this.

"Well." He stated, forced cheeriness lining his words. "That explains where our men have gone."

Alan grimaced. "This site isn't dinosaur-proof. I wonder if they actually had any defences. Surely they knew what they were getting themselves into when they came here."

Malcolm looked sad. "I don't think anybody ever knows what they're getting into when they come here." He stated with solemn candour. Grant was inclined to agree with the man.

"All right." The palaeontologist took a deep breath and tried to break the tone. "We need to keep moving. Whatever took this guy off might not be too far gone. We'll have a look for any survivors, and let's see if we can find any way of contacting somebody outside of this island. Radios, satellite phones, computer networks… I don't really know. But anything you think may be of use. They must have kept something around." Grant knew nothing of modern technology, and though he suspected Ian held more knowledge, it probably still didn't say much. Why couldn't he have gotten himself stranded with a computer expert?

Malcolm nodded dutifully and for once Grant considered that they might be able to work together without any fuss. "Right, let's get going."

* * *

The rooms leading on were all pretty much in the same state, features destroyed, furniture overturned and general disturbance portraying the ruckus that had evidently taken place. There were few traces of blood, however, which gave the men hope that not many people had been picked off by the beasts. At the same time, it meant that in effect they were now to be cautious of two different types of opponent that would likely not hesitate before killing them.

They slunk around the next corner, turning into a main floor that connected to an open stairway leading into the front lobby. A huge, empty space struck them where a rather impressive Tyrannosaur skeleton had once stood proudly. It bothered them both to see the stark emptiness there. They exchanged glances and started descending the stairs steadily.

"Again: I don't like this, Alan." Ian said, breaking a long silence that had befallen.

"I know." Alan agreed, not much liking it himself. They were now entering the areas of the building that brought back too many memories. It didn't help that this time they were back, under similar circumstances. Less than three years ago, Grant had been the one who chased dinosaurs. Now it seemed, all too often, it was the other way around.

They passed through the room quickly, surveying any damage. It didn't seem too bad, in fact. Soon enough, they had ended up in the large dining room, where rows of long tables filled the floor. They were mostly undisturbed, only one had been toppled over, though most of them had lost tablecloths.

Grant remembered the room, where he'd sent the kids after Tim's little scare with high voltage. It had been lined with a vast array of different foods, desserts… as Hammond had said, they spared no expenses. He hadn't then had much time to think about it, as he, Ellie, and the children had been running for their lives. But now he really thought about, he decided he could go for a slice of black forest gateau.

Malcolm was thinking pretty much the same. The thought of food made his stomach rumble, loudly. He sighed, unhappily. The days he had spent barely eating anything before boarding that plane were very much regretted. If he made it out a second time alive, he promised himself to eat as much as possible at all times, lest a situation such as he was in arose again.

"When was the last time you ate?" Alan asked, eyeing him suspiciously.

"I don't know." He frowned. "How long have we been here?"

"About two days."

"Two days, huh? That it?"

"I'm afraid so." Alan looked around the room. "Well there's no food here, but the men who kidnapped you must have brought something. Try the kitchen?"

Ian nodded. "I hope no dinosaurs got to it first," he muttered.

"Oh no, I think the carnivores generally prefer to _hunt_ for their food."

Malcolm rolled his eyes. "Great, thanks. That makes me feel a whole lot better."

Alan smirked and pointed wordlessly in the direction of the kitchen. The other man left in search of food.

Finally, with alone time to concentrate, Grant scanned the room again. He had been trying to figure out which species of prehistoric beast had attacked the men, based on the damage done to the building. It was definitely something small-ish, unlikely to be any taller than the average human. The way only some of the things in a room had been knocked over suggested a certain sense of gracefulness. He also suspected that there were probably two of these creatures, at least. Pack hunters.

He had to shake the voice in his mind screaming 'raptor' at him. Those magnificently intelligent dinosaurs were not on his list of things he wished to face.

Trying to change the direction of his train of thought, Grant absently wondered if Malcolm had found anything to eat. He had to admit that he was also terribly hungry. If they didn't find food or a way off the island soon, they simply weren't going to make it.

* * *

Ian in fact had absolutely no luck locating anything edible. And he found something frankly disturbing about the way everything in the kitchen was reflective metallic. It was almost like one of those crazy mirror sections in those funfairs… it threw off his senses. He sighed audibly as he shut the empty 'fridge door, freezing in place, eyes wide, as he caught the reflection of the figure behind him. His brain screamed a thousand directions at him at once, but he remained completely still, mostly out of fear.

He _really_ didn't need this right now.


	14. Breakdown

For what seemed to Ian to be a long time, nobody in the room moved, or said anything. Slowly, he turned around, hands up at his sides, and faced his attacker; he recognised him as the 'leader' of the guys who were responsible for getting him in the mess he currently found himself to be in.

He noted that his left shirt arm had been torn up, and a wound that didn't look to be too deep marked his upper arm. Mostly, though, he noticed the long gun aimed squarely at his chest. Yeah, that one kind of jumped out at him.

"You can't shoot me," he reasoned, keeping his hands where the other guy could see them. "I have wives, and kids." The man raised a questioning eyebrow and Ian hasted to assure him. "Ex-wives, I mean. I'm, er, not a polygamist." He didn't mention that his ex-wives would probably not be on his side, had they been there. That wasn't important, really, was it? "You, er. You're obviously not amused. I should really just stop talking, shouldn't I?"

"I think that would be wise." A voice from the doorway stated soberly. Both men turned to see Alan, who also slowly raised his hands up to prove he wasn't armed.

The man with the gun - clearly not expecting to find another person about - hesitated for a second, unsure of where to point the weapon. He settled quickly, however, by shoving the point into Malcolm's stomach. Malcolm stilled, and hoped to god that Grant would do the same.

"Hey, easy." Grant said in that calming, non-threatening voice. Malcolm didn't really believe the guy was ever as calm as he pretended to be.

"Who are you?" The man grunted, without actually taking his eyes from his target.

"I'm Dr. Alan Grant. I'm a palaeontologist-"

"Right, yes. I know who you are. You were here before."

Alan nodded, although the man was not looking in his direction. "That's right. Me and Dr. Malcolm both have experience with this island – with these dinosaurs. Now you've clearly done a fine job in surviving so far, but don't you think you'd have better chances with us?"

He scoffed. "You only came back here to find a way of getting out. With _our_ equipment."

"Yes, that's true." Grant reasoned. "And you know where it is and how to use it, am I right?"

The man nodded. He was still staring at Ian. And Ian didn't like it.

"Then it seems we need each other." Grant finished, in a low voice. "We have the experience and the dinosaur expertise. You have a way of getting off Isla Nublar. We can work together."

Alan had a way with his words, Ian reflected. The ability to basically give an order, and make it sound like it was in the interest of the other person seemed to come naturally to the man. Ian couldn't do that – people told him constantly that he came across kinda preachy. He wondered if anybody would have listened to him during their first meal in that projection room at Jurassic Park those years ago had he possessed this talent that Grant obviously did. He often went ignored, and – he figured he could face it – he was often right. Now it occurred to him where he was going wrong.

After much consideration, the man appeared to accept Grant's logic. The gun didn't move, though. "You make a lot of sense, Dr. Grant." He said. "But it doesn't explain why exactly I need him." He nodded in Malcolm's direction. "One experienced dinosaur expert seems enough to me. Is it really safe for me to be outnumbered by two of you? Why shouldn't I just shoot him now?"

_Because that would be mean_, Ian thought. And why him, anyway? He was always the one being threatened. He thought Alan deserved a turn.

"I suppose there's nothing stopping you from killing him." Grant rationalised. Ian made a squeak of protest. He knew the guy didn't like him, but he was _really_ starting to push it. "But I will not co-operate with you if you do anything to him."

"I don't think there's much you can do about that," He explained, waggling the gun as a reminder.

"Maybe not. But like I said before: you need at least one of us. If we don't agree to help you, you're as good as on your own. So lower your gun, and let Dr. Malcolm go."

The man blew out air from his nose, bringing to mind a bull or something equally volatile. Malcolm simply held his breath and stood uneasily until the man conceded, bringing the gun to his side, angrily. Ian backed away, quickly, towards Alan.

"We're gonna work with him?" He asked, voice unsteady. It was his turn now to keep his eyes fixed on the man as he spoke.

"Evidently." Grant said.

"I don't trust him with that gun."

"Hey, I'm keeping the gun." The man assured heatedly.

"That's okay," Grant said, his tone a composed contrast to the other man's. "We don't need to trust him, Ian." He explained. "We just need his cooperation."

Malcolm scowled. "I still don't like it."

"You don't like a lot of things." The palaeontologist replied simply. "Now we need to get moving." He explained to both men. Then he turned his attention specifically to the man dressed in black. "Er, before we do… what do we call you?"

Ian could think of a few things to call him, but most of them would probably get his head blown off.

"Call me… Roy." He answered mysteriously.

"_Roy_," Ian started deliberately. "Do you have anything to eat?"

* * *

'Roy' did indeed have food. For which Ian and Grant were truly thankful. Their meal consisted of stale bread and rather vile freeze-dried fruit, but it was food nonetheless, and they both ate with a ferocity that would never be considered dining etiquette.

Roy waited about impatiently. "Didn't you say we should keep moving?" He asked, after they had finished eating.

"Yes. Right." Grant agreed. "I assume you have a way of contacting somebody outside of the island?"

"Of course I do." He snapped. Grant just nodded. Ian found it somewhat troubling that Grant could tolerate such a violent and irritating man, and yet he still claimed that Malcolm himself annoyed him.

"Okay, good. Uhm… what exactly is it?"

"It's a satellite phone." Roy clarified.

Alan's face lit up. "Great. Good, that could work." He looked over at Ian, who returned his excited expression. He was certainly ready to leave now. "Let's get going! Where is it?"

Roy chose then to become interested in his feet. "Well, actually." He mumbled. "Jerry has it."

Alan nodded slowly. "Uh huh," he said, not quite comprehending. "And, uh, where… where is Jerry?"

"I don't really know." He explained with a shrug. "He had a run in with those dinosaurs…"

"Oh, god." Ian interrupted loudly. "Our one chance of getting off this place and… and a raptor _ate_ it!" He threw up his hands in exasperation and started to pace in angry circles.

"Ian," Grant warned.

"What?" He snapped. "Don't 'Ian' me. This is a bad situation. Don't tell me I can't respond to a bad situation." He extended a sharp arm in Roy's direction and said accusingly: "He said he had a way off this place."

"I do!" Roy growled angrily. "This isn't my fault. You don't think I want out here too?"

"Of course this is your fault! Don't forget who brought me here. By force." Ian snarled and ran both his hands through his tangled hair with a ferocity that startled Grant. It seemed Ian was finally about to snap.

"We're not going to give up yet," Alan reminded him. "We'll just have to go looking for the phone."

"Go _looking_-?" He stopped pacing and just stared incredulously at the man. "Do you even hear yourself speaking? That's the stupidest idea you've had yet."

"Malcolm."

"_No_, Grant. I am not going exploring the island, or marching into any dinosaur nests looking for a _phone_. You know how big this island is. We'll die before we get close to finding it."

"Malcolm, you're overreacting."

"I am not overreacting. Considering the situation, I'd say an outburst is quite justified. I'm sick of this crap. Somebody has to put voice to the thoughts we're all thinking: we're not going to make it off Nublar. It was a miracle it happened the first time; it's not going to happen twice."

"_For christ's sake, Malcolm!_" Grants voice cut into his ramblings. "Get a grip on yourself!" Seeing that he had successfully startled the mathematician into silence, he continued. "You're not the only person in this mess, and none of us are happy about it. Hold it together, or you're no use to anybody." He indicated the jungle outside with a big, sweeping gesture. "If you want to lie down and accept death, be our guest. But _I'm_ going to try and find a way out of here. Are you in?"

Ian let go of his pent-up anger in one harsh sigh. He rubbed at his eyes tiredly, suddenly feeling exhausted – physically, mentally. There was only so much he could take.

"Yes," He nodded, all traces of hostility in his voice now gone. "I'm in."

* * *

_I thought it best to feed the poor guys. And, did anybody spot the Die Hard reference:D_


	15. Nerd

It had taken Malcolm's flare-up for Grant to truly register how frightened he really was. He hadn't allowed himself much reflection on the thought before. But he felt like he was going on a wild goose chase. First he had to find Malcolm, and then they had to get back to the lodge, now they have to move back out there again. He couldn't help but think no matter what they did, they were never going to make any progress. And of course, Malcolm had been absolutely right - they had all been considering the futileness of the expedition. They had each been factoring death into their plans –their own death, each others death. Grant had never been so aware of his own mortality, and yes, it frightened him. It clearly frightened Malcolm. And neither of them knew about the man who called himself Roy, but if he had any sense, he too would be frightened.

Keeping a calm exterior was surprisingly easy. Unlike his comrade, he didn't tend to let his emotions show too far at the forefront of his projected persona. Whereas Malcolm was quick to display his feelings, Grant had a better hold on his own, tending to bottle them up, through experience, or perhaps through conditioning. Either way, it appeared that it had fallen upon him to 'lead' this rather unlikely troupe, mostly because out of the three, he looked to be the most stable. The other two were constantly at each others throats, sometimes literally. Malcolm was usually always the one to start a fight, and Roy was quick to try and turn it physical. The two together were a potentially dangerous mix, especially out here in the wilderness – or a close approximation to wilderness, at the very least. Even before they had left the building they had demonstrated their inability to work together, with a disparaging remark Ian had made resulting in Roy holding him by the throat against a wall. Grant simply couldn't spend all his time breaking them up, if he was also the one they were relying on to plot their next course of action. He wanted to compare their behaviour to that of children, but he had been here last time in the company of two young siblings, and it was nothing like this. Not even close. Their conduct was putting them all in very real danger.

And of course, like Ian, Grant did not at all trust 'Roy'. False name - and the fact that he was the only one among them carrying a weapon - aside, this was a man who lead a group of people to kidnap a well respected mathematician, land a passenger carrier in a strict no-fly zone, leave the very man they kidnapped out to die… whether the whole thing had been his idea or whether he was simply following orders was beside the point – whereas Grant could admit (begrudgingly) that Ian Malcolm was essentially a good guy, this man had ambiguous morals at best.

They were all extremely exhausted, and Alan attributed their irritable behaviour mostly to this. He couldn't speak for Roy, but it had been almost a day since he and Malcolm had slept. The sky was growing darker by the minute, and they had all agreed to find somewhere to sleep before setting off on this crazy mission.

It was finding a suitable location to rest for the night that was difficult. They had discussed it before settling on their final choice. Initially, Malcolm had mentioned that the main building was attached to a hotel – beds, blankets and remnants of civilisation and all. An immediately appealing and rather comforting prospect, the only doubts that sounded at their minds were at how unsafe the building actually was. None of them fancied being woken up by a raptor – for just a night on a mattress, it didn't seem worth it.

Grant suggested climbing a tree. A tall one. He explained that he had the kids had slept in one the last time.

"Spend the night… in a tree?" Ian asked, surprised. "That doesn't sound particularly spacious. Or safe."

"Not as safe as spending the night on ground, where all types of carnivorous dinosaur can reach?"

He nodded. "Okay, I see your point." So with it agreed (Roy kept pretty much to himself when he wasn't trying to murder Malcolm, and the men generally took his silence as agreement) they had set out in search for such a tree as Grant had described.

Now that they had stopped outside what he thought to be pretty much the 'perfect' tree, Ian's hesitations came back.

"Uhm. You know," he faltered, falling back just in front of the huge trunk. "I'm not, uh… I'm not real good with the whole tree climbing thing." Grant looked at him questioningly. "I mean, even as a kid I was never really… _that_ good. I mean, I was always just a lot better at, er, at… algebra."

Alan almost laughed. It took every effort not to. "You were a nerd." He accused knowingly.

Ian shot him an indignant expression. "I was _not_ a nerd." He explained. "I was cool. I was. But I was city cool, y'know? I just wasn't outdoorsy cool."

Alan chuckled and adjusted his hat. "Whatever you say, Ian."

"No, hey! Really. I wasn't a nerd." He insisted. "I liked maths, sure, but…" He could see he was losing him. "That's not the point," he muttered. "So I return to my original point: I'm no good with this tree climbing thing."

"It's no problem. Just grab the nearest branch and hoist yourself up. Keep going. And don't look down."

"Gee, you make it sound so easy."

Grant rolled his eyes and stared at Roy. "Are you okay to climb?"

"Hey, I'm fine." He stated.

"Good." He turned back to Ian. "We're going to climb."

"Fine, fine." He said in a defeated tone.

* * *

Ian was almost up, and it hadn't been _so_ hard. Complications only arose when Grant reminded him not to look down. Of course, he had done exactly that.

"Jesus christ." He whispered, clinging to the branch he held tightly. "That's… that's pretty high."

"That's why I told you not to look down," Grant muttered irritably. He hoisted himself onto a relatively flat surface and looked around. Various branches sprouted from around it, but it was a fairly level groove contained by the sturdy branches and deep green leaves of the tree. It was a good height, and not a bad size, either – Grant reckoned the three of them could fit, perhaps uncomfortably, but it was better than nothing.

Roy reached the surface, too, and Alan grabbed his hand to help pull him up. Once successfully up, they both peered down at Malcolm, who had lagged behind. He was still staring down.

"Ian, climb." Alan prompted.

"Uh. Okay." He called up, sounding somewhat apprehensive. Steadily, he gripped at a higher branch and pulled his weight up. He was soon nearing the top, and Grant held out his hand as he had done for Roy. Ian reached to grab it, slipping and losing his footing in the process.

"Woah!" Grant shouted, as he lunged forwards and caught his wrist. Ian's legs windmilled, their support suddenly pulled from under them. Grant kept a tight grasp on his wrist. "Okay, hold on!" he called down. "We're gonna pull you up."

Ian shot him a panicked look. "I told you I was no good at this." He shouted up at him nervously.

"Roy," Grant said, adjusting his weight. He tried to pull Ian up, but he was too heavy. If Alan attempted this alone, more likely than not they'd both go hurtling down that tree. When he didn't get a response, he turned his head to stare at the man who was simply stood around, watching the scene unfold. "_Roy_." He warned through gritted teeth. He couldn't hold Malcolm for too much longer.

"What the hell is he doing up there?!" Ian shrieked. Grant ignored him.

"What? I'm not helping him," Roy stated, looking surprised at the very assumption that he would.

"Yes, you are." Alan replied testily. He could already feel his grip slipping. "Get over here, now!"

Maybe it was the force behind the words, or maybe the guy considered the consequences of letting Ian fall, but he suddenly appeared next to Alan, grasping hold of Malcolm's free arm. Grant nodded at him and they both pulled the mathematician up slowly. By the time they were all three sprawled out on the tree surface, they were panting from the strain.

Ian shot Roy a death glare. "He was going to let me fall." He accused through breaths. Grant sighed deeply.

"So what if I was?" Roy snarled.

"It really doesn't matter." Alan said tiredly. "He helped you, didn't he?"

"That's not the point. I'm not fond of having to watch my front for dinosaur attacks, and watch my back for this homicidal maniac."

"I'm standin' right here. Stop talking as if I ain't."

Grant sat back between two large, thick branches protruding from either side. He bent his legs and rested his head backwards, closing his eyes. In front of him, the two men were still arguing, so he tried to tune it out. He couldn't help but wish for his hat, which he had lost in the climb upwards. If he hadn't been so high at the time, he would have gone back for it. As it went, he had seriously considered doing so anyway. But now he just hoped that nothing would take off with it as he slept. Smiling to himself, he pictured a velociraptor wearing his hat, and almost laughed at the image. He'd be sure to have a quick search for the item before they left in the morning, but for now, they were all in need of some resting time.

* * *

Alan stirred awake, glancing around his surroundings. For a moment he wasn't sure where he was, but that blissful second was ruined when memory flooded him. It was dark, but there was enough light to pick things out. He guessed it was early morning, but he couldn't make any approximations on the time – the concept had all but left him on the island.

Roy had slept on the long branch a few inches above the level Grant had chosen. He could hear the man breathing lowly in sleep. Ian was against the branch, his back to Roy, which opposed the comfy corner Grant had fallen asleep in. He was awake, and it appeared he was examining his leg - although Grant was unsure why he chose to do this in such insufficient lighting.

"How is it?" He asked, surprised by the croak in his voice. He was tired, but he doubted he'd be able to get back to sleep again.

"Huh?" Ian looked up, obviously snapped out of some thoughts or other. "Oh." He glanced back down at his leg. "It's… better."

"Is that the same one you injured last time?"

Malcolm smiled dryly. "Yep." He rolled the trouser leg back down. "What are the chances?"

"I don't know," Grant admitted. "I thought that was your area."

"I guess it is." He sighed. "It seems to have gotten me in trouble a few times."

Alan could sympathise. After a pause, he broke the silence by asking something that had been on his mind for a long time. "Did you, uh… did you _know_ about what Hammond had done? Before you came here the first time, I mean."

Ian frowned. "Yeah. Well, I had been asked to be a 'consultant' to the project. The plan was outlined. Gennaro had spoken about it on more than a few occasions, too. I'd spoken out against it from the start; ultimately, uh, that was the reason I was brought into it, I guess. They were looking for any excuse to shut Hammond down."

"So… why? What made you go?"

"I don't know." He confessed. "There was something very different from being told some guy wants to open up a park full of dinosaurs, and actually seeing – _being in_ – a park full of… well, full of dinosaurs." He shrugged. "I knew the guy was serious, but I didn't really think… I suppose I never really considered the actuality of it all."

Grant considered this. "Me and Ellie were approached by Hammond directly." He laughed, humourlessly, as he recalled. "He... he came into our trailer – we were in the middle of a dig and he comes down in these huge helicopters. And he just tells us he wants our expert opinion on this project of his – he never went into any specifics. In hindsight it was a mistake to jump into something we knew nothing about, but when he offered to fund future digs, well…" he trailed off and shrugged.

Malcolm nodded. "So, are you and Dr. Sattler…?" He didn't see Alan's sharp look of warning at the mention of Ellie through the darkness, although even if he had, he would probably still have gone on. "Are you two still, you know, together?"

Grant didn't answer him, and Ian grinned. "Right, sorry. It's none of my business." He held up his hands by way of apology. Alan wasn't convinced of the sincerity of the action, and his suspicions were proved valid when Ian couldn't help but slip in: "She doesn't, er, ever mention me at all does she?"

"No." he replied simply, raising an eyebrow. It wasn't completely true, as she had mentioned checking on the mathematician's well-being on a few occasions; as far as he was concerned, Ian need not know about that.

"Really? Never?"

Alan glared at him again.

"Okay, sorry. Just checking." He thought it best to leave the subject be, for fear that the palaeontologist might push him out of the tree if he pressed any further. He changed the topic. "Do you think this recovery mission of ours is wise?"

"No. Not really. I wouldn't call it wise."

"Right. See, that's exactly what I've been thinking."

Alan laughed. "I wouldn't have guessed."

"It's just… the people in the plane – our flight. They got out okay, didn't they?"

"I don't know." Alan admitted. "Hopefully."

"Do you think they'd send help? Surely they would."

"Yes. It's likely. But it's been three days already, Ian. Do you really want to wait around any longer in the hopes that somebody is coming to get us? And if nobody comes, then what? I think it would be better for us to find a way off here ourselves."

"I have no qualms about taking the matter into our own hands, Alan. But we're going to invade a velociraptor nest, looking for a satellite phone that – more likely than not – isn't even there. I find the waiting for rescue plan a whole lot more comforting, frankly."

"Me too," Grant smiled. "But to be blunt, I don't believe we have much of a chance either way. We might as well take action."

"Wow. You've sold me, you motivational speaker, you. And here I thought you were always so positive."

"I'm sorry." Grant smirked. "You'd rather I just told you what you want to hear?"

"Well, uh, yeah, actually. Yeah. You know, behind my charmingly cool exterior, my mind has already run with all the horrible, _horrible_ outcomes of this happy little trip." He smiled as he said: "I thought I was just being cynical."

"You? Never." Alan shook his head lightly. "But, you know, you are right. Sometimes."

"I'm sorry, what?" Ian raised a questioning eyebrow, trying to keep a straight face. "Did Dr. Alan Grant just admit that _I_ was right? Could you repeat that?"

"No." Grant said stonily, already regretting saying it.

Ian sighed. "Okay. Look, I know I get on your nerves. I get on a lot of people's nerves. It's a gift," he explained with a shrug. "But, I feel like I should say that I appreciate your help in this situation. And... I trust you. I know you're just about the only chance at survival we have out here." He gestured the land below them. "I'm scared. I mean, genuinely frightened. And your plans... they just don't do my nerves any good. But I know you're right." He looked over at the sleeping Roy, and unconsciously lowered his voice to a whisper. "But that guy just doesn't sit right with me. It's more than just logic, it's like... gut instinct."

Grant nodded. "I know what you mean. He's a dangerous man. You can just feel it."

"If I'm honest, I'm more uncomfortable around him than I am with the dinosaurs." Ian admitted. "At least with them, there is some kind of understanding. But he's... it's like something is just off in his head. I can't figure him out. And I just have this awful feeling that something terrible is going to happen. And he's going to be the one behind it."

_

* * *

Inconsistent doesn't even begin to describe my awful updating habits. __Many apologies._


	16. Lost and Found and Lost Once More

Grant had not been able to sleep after his talk with Ian. It had unsettled him. Ian was right, and Grant felt it, too. A horrible sense of foreboding twisted in his gut around Roy. The man was unstable.  
Alan just did not know what to do, and worse still, he knew he had to be the one to make the decisions. He'd somehow managed to accumulate the leader role in the trio and it was a difficult burden to bear.  
On one hand, he agreed with Ian. It wasn't safe to keep Roy around. He was too unpredictable and difficult to control; ultimately he was a danger to them. But then, what exactly could they do about it? Surely it was better to keep him close, where they could keep a watch over him? After having trawled the island, watching for dinosaurs as well as the bad guys, it was better to at least know where one of their problems was. And if any of his men were still alive, it was better to encounter them with their leader on their side then it would be to come up against them helpless and vulnerable.

So Roy had to stay. That was what it basically came down to; they had precious little alternative.

They had set off again, none of them particularly refreshed after a troubled night's sleep. Alan had allowed himself a moment of happiness as they had climbed down the tree to find his hat, sitting where it had fallen off, on the grass a few metres away. He picked it up and dusted it off, returning it finally to it's rightful place – on top of his head.

The short feeling of contentment was replaced quickly by the grim determination he had come to rely on to lead this search. It had occurred to him that he had not the slightest clue as to where exactly he was leading the other men. They weren't even completely sure which dinosaurs had infiltrated the lodge, although velociraptors seemed like a reasonable guess. But even so, he had no idea where to find a velociraptor nest. He was mostly just relying on luck. Bad luck, in fact. They had never needed to go searching for the dangerous dinosaurs – previous experiences on the island dictated that it was more than likely the dinosaurs would come to _them_. That was how it had been for both of the times Grant had landed himself on Nublar, and he saw no reason why his awful luck should change now.

Behind him, Ian and Roy were quiet. They had been for a few hours, since they had set off that morning. In a way, it worried Alan. Ian had not started at Roy all day, and Roy had not tried to murder Ian, either. In fact, Malcolm had said extremely little at all, and as much as Grant appreciated the silence, it was out of character behaviour and that was never a good sign.

Ian, for his part, was very much wrapped up in his own thoughts. Escapist thoughts, mostly. He found himself thinking about new things to add to his in-progress book, or thinking about mathematical theories other scholars had submitted. The analytical side of his brain was mostly occupied with this, and not at calculating chances of survival. When the emotional part took over, he was lost in memories – some good, some bad, but none of them he regretted. His body was just going through the motions as he once again trod through the growths of foliage, his mind otherwise occupied. He found this method of dealing with his current situation much less destructive than wallowing in despair.

On the odd occasion he would return back to the here-and-now, he noted duly that Roy was quiet, too. For most the part, Roy was always quiet, but every so often, something would set him off. This hadn't happened at all in the few hours they had been walking, but this didn't put Ian at ease. He didn't seem to be lost in thought – at least, not the kind of thoughts Ian was lost in. There was something calculating behind those steely eyes. It made him shudder to think about it, so he chose not to, and instead returned to his contemplation of the criticisms he'd received on his theory of Chaos.

It was beginning to get dark again before Ian had realised just how out of it he had been. It had almost been a full day now – a full day, and he hadn't even noticed. He may as well have not been there. They had made a few stops during their trek. They had brought a few supplies with them from the main building, which was good. It helped keep their energy levels up. It felt good to be able to stop for water, or something to eat, although Malcolm had not really noticed. It vaguely occurred to him that it simply was not good to spend so much time in your own head.

Alan had been quiet all day, too, he noticed, although it wasn't like he had anybody to talk _to_. Ian had not been paying any attention to him, and it would probably be more beneficial to hold a conversation with a brick wall than it would be to hold one with Roy.

"We should look into finding somewhere to sleep again," Grant said, slowing. "It's not safe to carry on walking in the dark,"

Ian nodded absently. He wondered what exactly they were going to do. None of the trees around the area were particularly suitable to sleep in, and it wasn't like they had a tent or camping equipment. He could tell that Grant was thinking the same thing.

"We'll continue for a few more miles," he finally decided. "The darkness should hold off for another hour or so. Hopefully there will be more suitable trees or something further on," he murmured. Ian wasn't convinced, but what else could they do?

His thoughts retreated once again as they continued onwards. He couldn't help it – it was just comforting to escape a little. He wasn't really taking in his surroundings at all, which was probably why he hadn't noticed the short branch he slipped on.

Ian toppled backwards, but managed to remain upright. The sudden movement caused both men in front of him to snap their heads around.

"You okay?" Grant asked.

"Yeah, I'm fine," he muttered. "Just a stupid..." he looked back at the offending object and paled.

"Ian?" Alan enquired, curious to know why the man had suddenly gone quiet. "What is it?"

"That's not a tree branch," he said, shaking his head. He offered no further explanation so Grant trudged over to him and looked down at the sight.

"Oh, my god..." he whispered. It was at first difficult to make out in the dim lighting, but that was certainly an arm that Malcolm had tripped up on. A human arm.

Ian felt sick. He backed up a few steps and stared at the leafy ground. He could still feel the arm under his foot, and he had to physically shake himself to rid the feeling.

"That's Jerry," Roy stated grimly. "Or it was," he added (somewhat unnecessarily, Ian thought).

Alan remembered Ellie telling him that this was much the same way she discovered poor Arnold the first time they were here. Well, now he knew how she felt.

"Okay," he said, closing his eyes and bracing himself, as he tried also to brace the other two men, as well. "This means we're close. Or," he reminded. "It means that _they're_ close."

Ian and Roy nodded, feeling suddenly very open and unprotected. Despite this being exactly what they had been looking for, actually knowing that a whole nest of velociraptors could be watching them right at that moment wasn't a nice feeling.

"The phone," Grant reminded, trying to raise spirits a little. "It must be around here somewhere."

Ian glanced around cautiously. They seemed to be at a stand-still, and it wasn't getting them anywhere. "We have about an hour before it gets too dark," he said decisively. It sounded a lot braver than he actually felt. "I think we should start searching."

* * *

Splitting up had not sat well with Ian, but time was a luxury they did not have. Logically, it made more sense for them to each search different places. They weren't far apart, of course – the last thing they needed was to get lost from each other – but they were split enough for Ian to feel particularly exposed and alone. It was the anticipation that was killing him, really, he thought as he rustled as quietly as he could through a thick bush of long, green leaves. The knowledge that at any moment he could be leapt on from any direction. Raptors were extremely skilled hunters. He knew he'd be screwed before he even had chance to realise what had hit him.

He tried to rid his mind of these negative thoughts and instead concentrate on the search for the satellite phone. But it had been over half an hour, and darkness threatened to close in on them. Malcolm had had no luck. On one hand, no dinosaurs. On the other, no phone. He sighed.

Grant had fared much better. In fact, it was all Grant could do not to shout out loud in happiness. It had been about twenty minutes into the search that his hand had grasped the prised object, concealed behind a mossy tree trunk, long leaves and grass spurting around it. At first, he hadn't believed it. His mind actually wouldn't process the thought. It was too good to be true, and for a moment, he didn't even want to believe it, for fear of getting his hopes up. But it was real. And, on inspection, it looked as if it would still work. There was no visible damage done to the exterior.

He all but ran to find the others.

He'd stumbled into Roy first. Almost literally, in his excitement. "Roy!" he exclaimed breathlessly. The other man slowly rose from his crouched position behind a fallen tree trunk and fixed him with a level stare.

"You didn't...?" He asked, when he noticed the pure joy radiating from the palaeontologist.

Grant nodded with a grin. "I did!"

"Then we need to move before we run into any of those lizards," he stated. Grant was even too happy to bother correcting the ill-informed man, despite one of his pet-peeves being people mistaking dinosaurs for cold-blooded reptiles.

"You're right," he nodded his agreement. "We need to find Ian and go. Quickly."

Roy gazed at something behind Grant's shoulder. "Isn't that him?" he asked as he squinted his eyes.

Alan probably should have paid more attention to the warning his gut tried to tell him, but, honestly he was just a little high on adrenaline. He turned to look behind him without a second thought, and that was pretty much the last thing he was aware of before he felt a sharp pain start at the back of his skull. He felt the pain spread quickly around his head as he had the vague feeling that he was falling.



* * *

It was time to give up and head back to the others. Ian wasn't going to find anything, and darkness was drawing in closer and closer as the time ticked by. It had to have been about forty-five minutes now. They needed to move on. They could, if all else failed, try again tomorrow. Although he wasn't sure how keen on the idea he really was.

A low sound and sluggish movement from behind startled him. He spun, mouth open and eyes wide as panic gripped his heart. He scanned the area, but couldn't make anything out. This only put him more at edge as he imagined raptors concealed in the vast foliage around him, ready to strike.

Leaves rustled again, he heard it for sure this time. Whatever it was, it was coming closer. It occurred to him that his 'attacker' was perhaps too clumsy to be a raptor. He could hear footsteps, slow and lumbering. Definitely not the graceful hunters he feared.

"Alan?" he spoke, and received a groan in response. He stepped closer to the approaching figure, slumped forwards a little, stepping awkwardly. It was Grant, all right. He appeared to be holding his head. Ian went up to him a little cautiously.

"Oh, no." He breathed as he took the figure in. Grant was injured – Ian bit his lip as he saw the blood smears on his face. His light hair was knotted and matted at the back, stained darker by dried up blood that had seeped from a nasty-looking wound. "Sit down," he ordered, and Alan did so. Ian assessed his injuries as best he could, though not being an expert in the area meant his assessment had major limitations. It was just the head wound, he realised. Alan had gotten blood over his hands, and subsequently over his face, too, but he had only been bleeding from the back of his head, and this had stopped now. The blood smears had made it look a lot worse than it actually was. But still, it wasn't a very nice injury, and could possibly lead to concussion.

"What happened?" Ian asked, although he had a sick feeling that he could guess. The knots in his stomach had tightened as soon Grant had stumbled up to him.

"Roy." Grant breathed, a little anger in his weak voice. "I found the phone. He took it."

Malcolm swore and then set his mouth into a grim line. "We have to get it back," he said, somewhat stating the obvious really. "Are you okay?"

"I'll be fine," Grant said stubbornly. Ian wouldn't argue. Really, there was nothing he could do anyway. Alan shouldn't really be moving so much, but they were in velociraptor territory and they simply couldn't stay. Not to mention, they had a traitor to catch.

Ian helped him back up again, and tried to support some of Grant's weight as they moved, much as Alan had done for him when he had first injured his leg. Somewhat perversely, Ian was kind of thankful that for once he wasn't the one in peril. He felt he'd gotten a rough deal since he'd been there.

"It's getting dark," Grant commented, a hint of defeat in his tone. "We really can't keep going for much longer."

"Then neither can he," Ian stated bleakly. "We have to keep going for as long as possible. I'd say we still have ten more minutes of sufficient light." He knew he was grasping for straws now. It was already dark. Ideally, they'd stop now, but they weren't out of dangerous territory yet.

"Ian..." Grant started slowly.

"You can keep going, Alan." He said through gritted teeth. Truth be told, he didn't really believe it himself. Supporting the palaeontologist's weight was more of a strain than he expected, and he didn't suspect Alan had it in him to stay conscious much longer.

"No, Ian," he repeated. And Malcolm was ready to cut him off again. Damnit, _he_ was supposed to be the pessimistic one. But he didn't get the chance to voice this as Grant tugged on his shirt sleeve impatiently.

"It's... they're..." And Malcolm followed his gaze and froze. They were surrounded. He could sense them behind him now, but more importantly, he could see the two in front of them. Concealed slightly by shrubbery, but there was no missing those piercing, yellow eyes.

Raptors.

* * *

_Gods. I thought I'd uploaded this one month ago. Imagine my surprise. Feel free to kick me up the arse when I get slow with these things; I promise not to resent you. _


	17. Dinochow

If their situation could have been worse, Ian certainly couldn't imagine how. Not that he had any time to imagine a worse situation. There seemed to be but a split second between his noticing the carnivores that surrounded him, and the proceeding, swift attack.

He had not even reacted before he felt a force strike him that he could never describe. The wind was knocked from his chest as he fell backwards, the weight of the dinosaur on top of him. He was frozen in fear as he stared up helplessly at the velociraptor, which, in turn cocked its head at him curiously. There was a coldness behind those eyes, which, coupled with the ever-permanent 'grin' the dinosaur wore, chilled Malcolm to the bone. Everything was a game to this creature, he realised, like a cat with a mouse. He really didn't have much more of a chance to continue this line of thought before the creature brought that powerful, heavy jaw to his shoulder. Ian screamed as teeth ripped through flesh. His body jerked in response to the pain – he brought his feet up at kicked rather helplessly at the raptor. His attempts were quite feeble, but he managed to get in a lucky shot. The raptor squealed a little, and jumped off. Ian moved immediately, turning onto his side, trying to drag himself away. He knew he was being toyed with. If the raptor had wanted to kill him straight away, it would certainly have done so. It would take very little effort for the thing to gut him with that claw, right now.

The rest of the prehistoric beasts watched him as he moved. He wondered what he was even doing. He didn't stand a chance. He was completely outnumbered, and even if he hadn't been, he didn't reckon he could fare well against a singular raptor let alone the group which now surrounded him.

He didn't know what had happened to Grant. Likely it wasn't good. Malcolm closed his eyes in despair, trying to push down the waves of pain and nausea. He stopped moving now, leaning on his right side – his good shoulder. He could feel the raptors closing in further around him.

Ian knew he could do one of two things - sit back and accept death, or continue to crawl feebly. They were both going to end the same way, apparently. He gritted his teeth and leaned all of his weight onto his good arm, bringing his torso up. His feet found the ground and he rose, unsteadily, only to be knocked back down again by one of the dinosaurs. He cried out as he fell, face first into the dirt. Undeterred, he tried again. Again, the raptors watched him, with morbid curiosity, before knocking him back down. They didn't attack when he hit the floor, just watched him get back up again. He repeated this process a few times. He couldn't know for sure how many – he was already beginning to feel light-headed. He inched a little further from the dinosaurs before attempting to stand again. He had managed to grasp a thin but sturdy tree branch that had been resting on the floor. The raptors continued to watch him and he got up once again. He anticipated the attack from behind – that was where he had been knocked back down from the previous times. This time, he spun quickly, catching the dinosaur off-guard with the branch. It made a strange screaming noise as it fell backwards. The others stared on, momentarily stunned. Ian knew this was the only shot he had. He ran.

It was stupid, really. He was on unsteady legs, feeling as if he were about to pass out. His arm was bad, his leg was bad, and was trying to outrun a pack of velociraptors. It wasn't his brightest idea.

Of course, they were on him in seconds. He fell forwards, and tucked his body up, falling into a roll. The raptors jumped away for a moment. Ian pulled himself up as he reached a stop. He was at the edge of a hill. It wasn't a very steep hill, but it was quite a long way down. Breathing heavily, he turned back to the approaching pack of carnivores, and it didn't take him long to reach a decision. He threw himself down the hill.

It hurt, of course. He felt every bump, every impact; his brain rattled in his skull. The nausea he had been fighting down returned ten-fold. He reached the bottom of the rise, his body a tangled mass of limbs. Already, darkness crept into his vision, but he fought it off. He couldn't pass out right now. He leaned up, the dizziness in his head now unbearable, and lent forwards, heaving. It was a dry heave, as he had very little in his system to actually throw up, but it still paralyzed his body for a moment as the muscles in his stomach painfully tightened. He could barely support his weight on his arm, and he peered up the hill. It wasn't too steep for the raptors. They could come after him easily. He couldn't see them, but that didn't mean they weren't approaching.

The river was a few feet away. Malcolm felt a minute's indecision. There was no way he could swim across it. It would never happen anyway, but especially not in his current state. He could take refuge there for a while, until the raptors left, but he also didn't know what was in there – he could be leaping out of the frying pan, into the fire, so to speak. And he didn't know for sure that raptors couldn't swim. It seemed highly unlikely, given their huge, clawed feet and tiny arms, but there was just too little anybody knew about these beasts for him to rule it out completely. Finally, and most importantly, Ian didn't honestly know if he could do it. If he lost consciousness before he got out of the water, that was it – he'd drown.

_But_, he thought bitterly, as he saw one approaching raptor reach the bottom of the hill, _if I stay here, I'm dino-chow either way_. He picked himself up and ran for it, diving inelegantly into the water.

It was a complete shock to his system. The water was very cold –during the day, the sun heated the surface considerably – during the night, as the temperature dropped significantly, so too, did the temperature of the river. It was also completely dark – although by the moonlight Ian could make things out on the surface, under the water was a completely different story. He hadn't been able to resist the urge to gasp as he hit the water, which resulted in his inhaling some. He rose to the surface and spluttered, feeling the darkness edge around his sight again. No! He couldn't pass out. Not here. He thought he could still see the raptors – although they certainly weren't going in after him. He slipped from the surface without even realising it, falling deeper underwater. He felt himself succumbing to unconsciousness, and snapped his eyes back open immediately. He thrashed out, falling deeper still until he managed to calm his panic, and kick his back legs in rhythm. He swam closer to the surface again, gasping in air as he broke through.

The raptors had gone. Malcolm summoned all his willpower not to black out as he swam towards the bank. A few minutes later, he had reached the edge, and shakily pulled himself up out of the water with his good arm. It took longer than he would have thought necessary. He coughed up water as he lay by the bank, shaking and shivering as the coldness clung to his clothes which in turn, stuck to his skin, heavy from the moisture. He barely even noticed this before he finally passed out.

It was daylight by the time he came to, and the heat had dried his clothes. He moaned heavily and he spun onto his back, holding out his good arm to block the sun from his eyes. His throat was sore, his head thumped loudly against his temples and his shoulder hurt like the devil, but otherwise he was alright. He considered himself lucky at any rate, and feared that Alan had not gotten off so lightly. After long minutes of contemplation, he eased himself upwards until he was sitting. All things considered, he wasn't in too bad a state and felt well enough to walk. But what for? He was completely lost. He did not know if the raptors were still close, and he feared the worst for Alan. That bastard Roy had taken the only means of communication off the island and truly, Ian did not know where to start looking for it again. At this point it seemed like a pointless endeavour anyway, and had he perhaps been a little clearer of mind, he might have decided to give it all up there and then and plunge himself back into the river to end it once and for all. But be it optimistic determination or just concussion, Malcolm felt the need to journey on despite it all. If he was going to die, it would be gratifying at least to take Roy with him.

He climbed back up the hill without thought. He barely felt anything and in some small manner was thankful for this, although it worried him a little to consider that he should really be in a lot more pain. Either he had gotten a lot better at dealing with it, or something was wrong with him, and he knew it could not be the former. Ian did not deal well with anything, and he kind of liked it that way.

Upon reaching the top of the hill, he found himself back that the forest-like area he had been the night previous. Refreshingly, it was dinosaur-free and Ian stepped on steadily. In the light it was like a completely different place, and it almost felt silly to have been as afraid as he had been only a few hours ago. But the time of day was irrelevant, the danger was very real at any hour, and Malcolm knew this too well. Still, he stomped through the growths with a directionless determination that might have been admirable, if it weren't so stupid. His long strides caused the leaves beneath his feet to rustle and the twigs to snap and he found he did not care. He had faced death too many times as of late and he thought he might even be getting used to it. A hollow smile played across his lips – indeed what did it matter if he were to be eaten right now? Survival, that innate instinct which had kept him going thus far seemed to have abandoned him now and all he wanted to do was to find Roy and hurt him, never mind about the phone. For being so damned unlikable. For getting him into this mess in the first place. And for Grant.

Ian's forceful strides halted suddenly when, inexplicably, he found himself to be on the ground, face first amongst the leaves. This was most curious as Ian had not processed the fall. Something had hold of his ankle – he tried to shake it off irritably, feeling smugly satisfied when he felt his foot connect with something.

"Ow!" This something groaned. Ian frowned.

"Ow?" he questioned.

"Yes, 'ow'!" The something retorted angrily through clenched teeth.

Ian was almost furious. "Give me my foot back," he snapped. The hold was released, and he picked himself up. "You." He accused, standing over the body lying almost motionless on the ground. He clenched his fists. "You're supposed to be dead."

"Sorry to disappoint you," Grant said without looking at Malcolm. He had his arm over his eyes and made no attempt to stand. "I'm not having the time of my life, if it makes you feel any better."

"It doesn't," Ian sulked. "I thought you'd been eaten or ripped apart or something equally horrific when I lost you at those raptors."

"Yeah, I thought the same for you. It was you they jumped, remember?"

"Like I would forget. What happened to you?"

"Well apparently they weren't very interested in me, you seemed to have them occupied. I crawled away – I don't know for how long or how far I got. I don't remember anything really, I just woke up here."

"And you're just laying here because…?"

"I can't get up." Alan still had not moved, or taken his arm from over his eyes.

Ian sighed. "You know next time I might just pass them on to you," he said as he bent to help Grant up. "I wouldn't want to appear greedy."

"I think I liked it better when you were dead," Alan muttered.

Ian smiled a genuine smile. "Thank you." Then he let go of his friend, and Alan fell back to the ground with a _thump_. "Sorry," Malcolm murmured unconvincingly.

"No you're not," Grant accused. He finally lifted his arm and glared at Ian with bleary, bloodshot eyes.

"Yeah, you're right," Ian admitted with a grin. He held out a hand to help Grant up again, and this time he did not let go. Alan stood unsteadily, swaying on the spot for a moment before he held onto a tree for support. He was pale and uncharacteristically shaky, breathing heavily as he rested against the thick trunk, his head down.

"Are you okay?" Ian asked after a moment's thought. It seemed a rather silly question to ask, if he were honest, but he wasn't sure what else to say.

Alan looked up and nodded feebly. "Well, I've been better," he admitted. "How about you?"

"I'm good." Ian said, to which Grant cast a sceptical eye.

"You have a chunk of shoulder missing," he pointed out dispassionately.

Ian looked down at himself. He had almost forgotten, it was but a slight buzzing of dulled pain across his chest. In truth, it was not too bad a wound at all – he had not lost much blood and as long as it did not get infected, it could be treated easily enough and would heal eventually. "It's fine," he said. "I feel okay." And he wasn't lying.

"Ian, please. This overt display of masculinity really doesn't suit you."

Malcolm frowned at him. "I mean it, really. I've just reached this point where this doesn't matter anymore. Think about it, Alan. We've been almost-dead so many times in only so many hours, you see? Yet we're still here – both of us! At this point, Dr. Grant, I feel almost indestructible." He paused. "And what do you mean masculinity doesn't suit me?"


End file.
